


Hot For Teacher

by pada_ackles_1967



Series: Hot For Teacher [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Language, NSFW, Sex, Smut, Student Smut, student, teacher, teacher smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 17:47:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5711410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pada_ackles_1967/pseuds/pada_ackles_1967
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean Winchester, one of the best hunters in the game, decides to open a school for new hunters, you immediately jump on the opportunity. The only thing that you weren’t counting on? Falling for your new teacher.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

You stare down at the scribbled address that Tracey Bell had given you a week ago, then back at the tall, ominous brick building. 

 _Maybe I’m in the wrong place,_ you think. 

Maybe you _wanted_ to be in the wrong place was probably more accurate. Hunting wasn’t something you wanted to get into, but it was the only thing you had going for you. You didn’t want to be stuck in the same dead-end waitress job for the rest of your life. As tragic as the death of your family was, something good had come of it—a purpose in your life.

You swallow the lump in your throat that always formed when you thought of your family. You reach up a fidget with the locket that your mom had given you on your 18th birthday, so many years ago. It held a picture of the four of you, your parents, your baby sister Piper, and you, from your Christmas card from that year. The feel of the cool silver always calmed you down and reminded you to remember them, but to _keep going._

When Tracy had called you and told you about a training camp for young hunters, you thought it was the perfect opportunity to sharpen up on your skills. If you were going to be thrown into the world of the creepy and crawly, you wanted to be ready.

You’re startled out of your thoughts when the large, round door in the brick wall swings towards you. 

“Are you just going to stand there?” asks the gruff voice of a man, who was still hidden in the shadows.

“I, uh, no?” you stutter out, a little afraid. Why didn’t you ask Tracy for some more information before coming here? All you had was a name and an address.

The stranger scoffs, loud enough for you to hear him. “Are you sure you’re in the right place, kid?”

“That depends,” you fake the confidence in your voice. “Are you Dean Winchester? Or do you know him?”

The stranger steps out of the dark and into the faint light of the day. You hold back a gasp when you take in his appearance. _Wow._

He must have been six feet tall, easily. He was all hard angles and lines, from the sharp edge of his jaw to his angled cheekbones and straight nose. You immediately thought back to your high school art class of Da Vinci’s _‘Physical Perfection’_ test, and thought that he would definitely pass. As hard as he was, though, there was a certain softness to him; his green eyes that looked like they had seen too much, his spikey blonde hair that looked soft to the touch. Even though he looked like he was made of pure muscle, he had a slight curviness to his figure that made you want to run your hands up and down his sides and stomach.

 _Okay, crazy,_ you think, _get yourself together._

You realize that he hadn’t said anything. He was just staring, assessing you in a way that made you want to hide behind your hands. You can feel the blush start to rise in your cheeks the longer he stares.

“Do you kill vampires with silver or wooden stakes?” the handsome stranger asks you.

You try to remember all the things you’ve briefly picked up over the past year. “Um… you don’t. You have to decapitate them.”

Your hope falters when he has no response to your correct answer. “What about werewolves?”

“Silver bullet to the heart?” You physically wince when it comes out sounding like a question.

The stranger sighs. “First lesson: If you’re gonna be a hunter, you gotta be sure of yourself.”

“Got it,” you agree, trying to sound more confident. 

He holds out his hand. “I’m Dean.”

You shake his hand and ignore the zinging feeling in your nerves when you touch. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Come on in. Welcome to the bunker.”

He ushers you inside, and you think he’s going to put a hand on your back, but he merely guides you down a half a flight of stairs. As he closes the door, you’re left in complete darkness. You dislike not having your sight to rely on, which is obvious when you jump a foot in the air when Dean puts his hand on the small of your back.

“Y/N, are you sure you want to be a hunter?” he asks, his tone mocking you.

You’re hurt; he hadn’t even seen you fight yet and he was judging you? “Yeah,” you answer coldly, stepping forward so he’s no longer touching you. “I’m sure, thanks.”

The rest of the walk is silent. As you walk forward, more lights are on overhead, lighting your path. You avoid his stares by focusing on your surroundings. It looks like he’s leading you through an airplane hanger that was filled with parked cars and motorcycles, the makes and models ranging from this century to the last. 

“This is the garage,” Dean breaks the silence, his voice considerably softer. “After we get you situated, we can move your car in here with everybody else’s.”

Still peeved at him, you simply thank him but don’t say any more.

The two of you stop when you get to another large, metal door, the kind that you might find on a ship or submarine. Dean reaches for the handle but stops halfway.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters out, not meeting your eyes. “I shouldn’t have judged you. I’m glad you’re here to learn.”

You’re taken aback by his apology. He doesn’t seem like the type to like to admit he was wrong. It makes your heart swell a bit in your chest. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

One side of his pink lips turns up into a half smile. He spins the door’s handle and opens it up with a loud creak. “Shall we?”

You step through the doorway, and it’s like you’ve entered another world. “Wow,” you can’t help but breathe out as you take in the sight of the bunker.  
You’re standing on a landing of a metal, spiral staircase that led down to an open room. It looked like one entire wall was a map of the world, while the table in the middle of the room was another map that glowed from the inside. Pushed against the walls were generators and old machinery that looked outdated, but interesting nonetheless. You look out into the next room, and it was even more of a sight. A million books seemed to fit into the giant bookshelves that scaled from floor to ceiling. In the middle of the room were two tables, each with lamps and chairs set up for congregating large groups. The far wall had a projection screen set up, along with a leather couch that was faced towards a sizable TV. In a carved out nook, there was a great telescope, complete with it’s own observatory.

“This is amazing,” you say, more to yourself than anyone. 

“I know,” Dean answers you, a tiny smile on his face. “This is gonna be your home for the next 8 weeks, so I’m glad you like it.”

You return his smile and continue on down the stairs. At the base of the staircase is another handsome man, who was even taller than Dean.

“Nice to meet you,” the man offers a hand for you to shake. “I’m Sam, Dean’s brother. What’s your name?”

It’s much easier to talk to Sam, with his kind, hazel eyes and easy speak. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N. Thanks for having me.”

Sam gives you a sweet smile that makes your heart flutter. “Right, Tracey sent you. She’s good, then?”

“Yeah, she’s good. We met about six months ago, and have worked a few times together, but she called me about this last week and I just kinda jumped.”  
Now that you vocalized it, it seemed crazy to you that you uprooted your whole life on a whim for something that may or may not have been happening. Thankfully it hadn’t been the latter.

“Alright,” Dean clears his throat from behind you on the staircase. “Let’s go meet everyone else.”

If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought Dean sounded a little jealous. The thought made you smile to yourself.

You say goodbye to Sam and Dean leads you into the main room with the two long tables. Inside, you find other people, hunters, all around your age, milling around, looking all around the room. Besides Dean and yourself, there are seven people total.

“Alright everyone,” Dean’s voice booms through the room, ceasing all conversations, “let’s all take a seat.”

You set your duffle bag down next to your chair on the ground and take a seat near the head of the table, a little away from the others. Chairs scrape on the wooden floors as everyone gets situated at the tables. The closest person who sits next to you is a boy with dark skin and pretty brown eyes is two seats down, leaving you enough space to breathe. 

“As you should have figured out by now, my name is Dean. I’m going to be teaching you the ins and outs of hunting over the next couple of weeks.” Dean walks around the tables as he talks, pausing every couple of steps like he’s unsure of if what he’s doing is right. “Before we get started, I just want to get a feel for where we’re at. Can you raise your hand if you’ve lost a loved one to a monster.”

 _Wow, right out of the gate,_ you think as you raise your hand half way.  
As you glance around the room, most hands are up in the air. A wave of sadness washes over you when you realize just how much people suffer everyday because of the things that go bump in the night.

“Okay, hands down. How many of you were born into the life and just want to get better?”

Fewer hands go up this time. Dean nods to himself. “Okay. Hands down. Has anyone actually killed a monster before?”

Your hand goes up halfway again, not wanted to draw attention to yourself. You can feel the lump start to form in your throat as you think of that awful night.

“Y/N, do you care to share with everyone what happened?” Dean singles you out.

 _Oh, fuck, really?_ you think.

You keep the tears back that threatened to spill over as you clear your throat to speak. “Um, sure,” you agree, not wanting to fight with Dean anymore than you had today. “I was on a camping trip with my family up in Minnesota. We were just settling into our tents when the wendigo came.” You didn’t care if anyone saw you, the tears were too much to handle. The hot traitor tears slip down your face as you stare at the grains in the table. “It grabbed my parents first and dragged them off. I never saw them again. My sister, Piper, and I stayed quiet until we thought it was safe, but… but Piper figured out what had happened and began to wail.” Don’t cry, don’t cry, you urged yourself. “The wendigo heard her and came back. It snatched her up, and took her to where it had taken our parents. Thank God I didn’t have a clue about guns, because that wouldn’t have done anything.” You let out a hard, humorless chuckle. “I made a makeshift torch, and before it could get me, I burned the thing to the ground.” You knew there was a twisted smile on your face, but you really didn’t care. Your only solace in the whole event came from your turning the thing to ashes. “By the time I killed the thing, it was too late for my parents and baby sister. They had suffered from blood loss and brain injuries. I had to stay with their corpses’ until the rangers found us. I didn’t even know what the God damn thing was until I got home and did some research. After that, there was no turning back.”

By the time you were done with your story, the whole room was silent, even Dean. You sat there, avoid everyone’s eyes’, as you tried to stop crying.

Quietly, Dean came around to stand behind your chair. He puts two hands on your shoulders and begins to rub his thumbs in, calming you down. You slowly stop your cries as the storm inside you begins to subside. You focus on Dean’s hands and match your breaths to his small movements. Finally, he’s calmed you down enough to speak again.

“Thanks,” you whisper, knowing he’ll hear you.

You think he’ll continue to pace around the table, but he doesn’t leave your side, his hands never leaving your shoulders.

His voice is softer when he speaks. “I think we can all agree that no matter what, we’ve all had traumatic experiences. Some people can never get over these awful events in our lives, but the fact that you are here shows me that you want to do more with your life than just become a shell of yourself.” He pauses, for effect or to get his own bearings, you don’t know. “If you learn one thing from this ‘course’, it’s this: Hunting is not about revenge. Not anymore. If revenge is the only thing fueling you to hunt, then you might as well leave now, because you’re only going to end up going crazy, I guarantee it. You have to find another reason, another passion, and let that drive you to be a better hunter.”

Dean gives you one last squeeze before walking around the table; you almost want to whimper at the loss of contact. You hadn’t felt that nice in a while.

“Just a few ground rules for the remainder of the course. Most, if not all, of you met my brother Sam earlier. While he probably won’t be training you much, you will listen to him and do as he says. Got it? There will be no fighting unless you’re in the training room being supervised. There will be no dating between any of you until the course is over.” There are a few mumbles of complaints from some of your peers, and it makes you smile a bit. “This includes sleeping around, guys. It gets messy, got it? After you’re outta here, feel free to shack up, but until then, keep it in your pants.” There are a few laughs at his comment, and even Dean smiles wryly before continuing. “You will need to be in your rooms at 10:30 pm until 8:30. What you choose to do is your choice, but I suggest you actually get some sleep. This isn’t going to be an easy summer camp, guys. If you’re gonna get better, you gotta train hard, which includes sleep. We’ll have meals for you at breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and if you don’t like the food, don’t eat it,” he jokes with a loud laugh. 

You wish you could make him laugh, you think idly.

“Don’t mess around with anything in the bunker unless told to do so. We’ve catalogued everything in his place, so we’ll know if something is messed with or ruined, got it? If I think of anything else, I’ll let you know. Until then, though, dinner should be ready. Sound’s good?”

There was a chorus of ‘yes’ before everyone got up at once. Chairs scraped and people began to talk again, raising the noise level exponentially. You stay in your seat until the crowd clears out.

Just as you’re about to get up, Dean stops you. “Y/N, I’m sorry for making you share. I didn’t really think it through, I should have known…”

You cut him off. “Dean, it’s okay, really. I’m okay.”

Without thinking about it, you grab his hand and squeeze, feeling the sparks again. This time, his eyes flick to yours, almost like he feels it too. 

Before you can say anything, Sam is running through a crowd of young adults and to his brother.

“Dude,” Sam claps Dean on the back, “sorry to interrupt but I need you in there. It’s chaos.” His eyes flick to yours and he gives you a small smile.

Dean doesn’t respond, almost like he didn’t hear him. He was still staring at you, intently focused.

“That’s okay,” you break Dean’s gaze. “Come on, I’ll help.”

“Thanks, Y/N!”

You get up from your chair and let Sam lead the way to the kitchen.

Dean’s still rooted in his spot, staring after you. If you weren’t so confused by his actions, you would have been flattered. “You coming?” you ask him, trying to sound nonchalant.

Dean shakes his head, clearing it. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Again, he leads you by the small of your back, the zinging feeling never fading.

* * *

You had lost count of how many times Sam and Dean had called you a “godsend” tonight. Every time you laughed it off, reminding them that you were a waitress, but they insisted: you saved Taco Night.

When everyone was finally settled in with their plates full of homemade Mexican cuisine, Dean popped in a movie and let everyone mill about.

You start to make your own plate out of what was left—damn, these people could eat! —when Dean comes in a joins you.

“Is there anything salvageable?” Dean jokes, grabbing a plate for himself.

“Yeah, if you like a lot of cheese and salsa on your taco and nothing else,” you laugh.

It feels so good to laugh, you think sadly.

“Well, I’m sorry you couldn’t get any of the good stuff. I’ll have to make more next time.”

You decide to show off, just a little. “Well, you know, I love to cook. I could help you out with meals… if you want.”

Dean’s eyes light up and his beauty stuns you. “I could use all the help I can get, honestly. Thanks, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome,” you act nonchalant, even though you were doing a happy dance on the inside. This only guaranteed more time with him.

“Well, I’m going to go out there and mingle.” He rolls his eyes, making you laugh. “You coming?”

You hadn’t realized how tired you were until the thought of a warm bed popped into your head. “You know, I think I’m going to get settled into my room and turn in for the night.” 

Something like disappointment flashes in his eyes. “Well, alright. Have a good night, Y/N.”

“You too, Dean.”

He grabs another handful of corn chips and shoves them in his mouth, making you snort in a very un-lady-like way, before winking at you and leaving the kitchen.

This was going to be a long eight weeks.

* * *

_Your voice was hoarse from sobs that you hadn’t let out yet and screams that fell on deaf ears. “Piper! Mom! Daddy!”_

_You crawl through the thicket of the cold woods, unable to walk on your twisted ankle. In the freezing cold, you don’t even feel the scrapes and cuts that now littered your shins and hands._

_The smell hits you first. Rust and salt and smells that shouldn’t be in a forest. You pull yourself forward just a few more paces before your hand lands in something sticky and wet._

_You throw up at the scent and feel of your mother’s guts on your cold hands.  
Fire. Blood. Guts. Piper. Wendigo. Blood. Blood. Blood._

The fluffy pillow on your bed muffles your screams. It takes you a second to remember where you were when you wake up. The bunker, oh yeah. You stare up at the ceiling, clutching the pillow to your chest as if it could fill the hole that was constantly in your heart.

You wipe the hot tears from your cheeks from your nightmare, the same one you’ve had over the last year since that awful day.

The red numbers on your borrowed clock read 12:39 am. You count to ten before swinging your legs off the side of your twin-sized bed. You don’t have a robe, but since everyone was in his or her bed already, you weren’t worried about getting caught. You slip on a pair of socks and pad to the kitchen.

When you’re past the library, you stop in your tracks, hearing voices. 

“—whole thing is so dumb. Honestly, who am I kidding?” Dean’s familiar voice rings out.

You lean against the wall to listen.

“Dean, I think this will be good for you.” You recognize Sam’s voice, even if he sounds a little sleepy. “Everyone seems excited, and think about how much you’re going to help these guys. Don’t quit before you’ve even started.”

A third voice, much deeper than Sam or Dean’s, speaks, but you can’t make out what he says. There’s some shuffling, and you know that you’ve been caught.

“Y/N?” Dean pops his head out of the kitchen. He cocks his head to the side. “What are you doing out past curfew?”

“Sorry, I just can’t sleep. Nightmares, you know?”

You see his annoyed look turn to one of pity as he stares down at your puffy eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Trust me, I know.” You want to ask him _how_ , but he grabs your shoulder instead, leading you into the kitchen. “Let’s get you some water.”

You blink at the bright florescent lights of the bunker’s kitchen, your sleepy eyes not having time to adjust.

Dean leaves you to stand in the doorway as he opens up a cabinet, grabbing you a glass.

“Hi, Sam,” you greet him politely.

His fluffy hair was tousled in a way that screamed bedhead. “Hey, Y/N. You okay?”

You really don’t want to get into it again, so you just nod, plastering on a fake smile.

Standing off to the side is a man with striking blue eyes and brown hair that was even messier than Sam’s. Even though he was shorter than Sam and Dean, and looked tiny in his plaid pants and slippers, there was an aura, a presence about him that made him seem great. 

Sam must have noticed you staring. “Y/N, this is Castiel. Castiel, this is Y/N, one of Dean’s new students.”

He offered you a small smile. “I’m Castiel.”

You find it hard not to smile back, finding his presence calming. “Nice to meet you.”

“Here you go,” Dean offers you a glass full of cool water. You immediately chug it down; crying always made you thirsty. He gives you another look of pity, but it’s different than most of the looks you got. This was a look of knowing, a look of ‘I know what you’re going through.’ It warmed your heart to know that you weren’t alone. “Alright, we’ve got a packed day ahead of us. Let’s get you to bed.”

You say goodnight to Sam and Castiel and let Dean lead your back to your room.

“About Cas…” Dean says when you’re halfway down the hallway, “We’re trying to keep his presence to ourselves.”

“Is something wrong with him?” you ask, your curiosity getting the better of you.

Dean just chuckles. “No, not really. Cas is just healing right now. It’s better if him staying here is kept between us, okay?”

His eyes bore into yours; you couldn’t disobey him, even if you wanted to. “Of course. Castiel, who?”

Dean gives you a smile, the kind that could make you forget who and where you were for a while.

“Well, this is me,” you announce when you get to the room that you were calling yours for the next couple of weeks.

“Goodnight, Y/N. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

Dean turns to go, but something possesses you to stop him.

“Dean?” 

“Yeah?” he turns around, confusion on his features.

You twiddle your thumbs, hoping you’re not crossing a line. “I don’t think what you’re doing is dumb. Not only are you going to be a great teacher, but I think you’re going to save a lot of lives doing it, too.” You usually weren’t so bold, but something made you think that he needed to hear it.

Something like uncertainty flashes in his eyes, but it’s replaced by that same softness that was so rarely found anymore. “…Thanks Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”

You fumble for the doorknob, his staring making you nervous. You finally get the door open and you slide inside, noticing how he doesn’t leave until your door is completely shut.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

_Oh god, you were hot for your teacher._


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Dean Winchester, one of the best hunters in the game, decides to open a school for new hunters, you immediately jump on the opportunity. The only thing that you weren’t counting on? Falling for your new teacher.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: mention/use of guns.

The next morning, you keep good on your promise to help Dean out in the kitchen by getting up before anyone else. Not only were you going to spend some time alone with him, but you also got the first hot shower of the morning, an unexpected perk. You’re fully dressed in jeans and a light tee shirt by 7:30. You slip into you converse and walk to the kitchen, not really caring that your hair was still wet. Your hair was far down on the list of ways to possible embarrass yourself in front of Dean this morning.

Dean’s back is to you, giving you the perfect opportunity to pause and admire him without him knowing. You stop in the doorway and check out how fluid he moved as he scrambled the eggs, how strong he was as he lifted the heavy pots and pans like they were nothing. He looked good, you think. _Maybe I_ should _have done my hair._

“Good morning,” you announce your arrival, walking into the kitchen.

Dean turns, his expression part surprise and part excitement. “Y/N, hey. You weren’t kidding about helping, were you?”

You stand right next to him at the industrial oven, looking over his progress on the eggs. “One never jokes about cooking,” you smile up at him, trying to be cutesy.

It works; he breaks into a heart-stopping grin. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. I’ve got our protein going, but something’s missing.”

“Let me see what I can whip up.”

You riffle through the large refrigerator, finding a whole lot of beer and bacon, and not much else. You grab a few things that you can make something of and set them on the counter. 

“Okay,” you turn back to him, “how about you fry up some bacon, seeing as you have so much of it, and I’ll make cinnamon rolls.” You proudly show him the tubes of premade goop that you found buried in the back. It would have to do for today. “I do suggest grocery shopping soon, though. Wouldn’t want the recruits to starve, now would we?” you tease him with a wink, not-so-accidently slipping into the plural.

Dean smiles a little sheepishly and nods. “You’re right about that.”

The two of you work in a comfortable silence, occasionally remarking on one another’s cooking or choice of spice. It was easy, working with Dean; he looked so young and carefree while moving around the tiny space, anticipating each move of his limbs or feet. You wonder if he looked this fluid while hunting, or doing other things with his body. He truly seemed to know his body well.

“How’s the icing coming along?” Dean asks, his body only inches behind you, trapping you against the counter. Whether he was doing it on purpose or he was always this close to people he just met, you didn’t know.

Deciding to be bold, you turn around, your face inches away from his. Something like an electric current runs in between you two, the tension practically palpable.

You know your cheeks are flooded with heat, simply by how close he was standing. Admittedly, it had been a while since you were close to a man like this, especially one as hot as Dean. You smile coyly when you see his eyes on your lips.

He starts to lean in. You heart is in your throat, but it’s welcome. You shut your eyes; your nerve ends are sparking, waiting for his lips to meet yours. He’s centimeters away from you—

“Good morning.”

You jump back, the edge of the metal countertop hitting your spine hard. _Ow_.

Dean’s stepped away too, looking as normal as ever. You turn towards the entryway and watch Sam enter the kitchen. Either he was completely oblivious to what he just walked in on, or he was a seriously good actor. You prayed it was the first one.

“Hi, Sam,” you greet him, ignoring the pain in your back. It was probably going to bruise.

“Ooh, cinnamon rolls,” he comments with a cute smile, dipping his finger into the big bowl of icing before you can stop him.

“Sam,” you whine, “really?”

He just pops his finger in his mouth, his eyes lighting up a moment later. “This is excellent.”

You roll your eyes playfully, unable to stay mad at him, especially if he liked your homemade frosting. “Well thank you. No more until you have your cinnamon rolls, though!”

He just chuckles, holding his hands up submissively. “Got it. Coffee?”

“Please,” you answer him.

“Dean?”

For the first time since Sam walked in, you peek up at him. He’s stoic, making it unable to read his expression. “Sure.”

You try to catch his eye, but he just goes back to his bacon, turning his back to you.

 _Great,_ you think. _He thought you were a mistake._ You try not to feel hurt, focusing on other topics before you can get emotional.

“Do you guys want me to set some food aside,” you lower you voice incase anyone else entered the kitchen unannounced, “you know, for Castiel?”

Dean finally meets your eyes, giving you a genuine smile at the mention of his friend. “That’s sweet of you, Y/N, but Cas won’t be hungry.”

You were always a curious person, and this mystery with Castiel, or Cas as Dean calls him, was beginning to get the best of you. For now you bit your tongue and went along with it, but you hoped that you would get time alone to talk to Dean about him, or even with Castiel himself.

“Okay,” you settle it, stirring your icing some more.

When all the food is either in the oven or on heating pans to keep them warm, the three of you sit at the table in the kitchen and just chat. You sip your coffee and listen intently as Dean tells you about some of their more adventurous hunts. You admire how he throws himself into the story, talking with his hands and doing all the voices. Your favorite is when he throws it to Sam so he can tell his side of the story or fill in the correct dialogue. You can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness when you realize that this is how your sister and you must have looked to outsiders as you laughed and joked around during family events or dinners. You laugh along to Dean’s story about a nest of “vampirates” but you were far away, thinking of better days.

When the oven dings, signaling that the rolls are ready, you excuse yourselves from the two brothers and get to work on icing them all just right. Even from across the room, though, Dean is including you in the story, asking you if you heard him. You love the dopey smile he gets on his face when you laugh at the right part of the story.

“We better get everything ready,” Sam suggests, glancing up at the clock on the wall.

The three of you set up an assembly line of sorts, making it easy for everyone to grab and go. Every time you have to sneak past him to set something up, Dean makes a point to rub up against you, causing you to blush without fail. You could add ‘tease’ to the list of his personality traits you had compiled so far.

“And… we’re good to go,” Dean announces with a proud little smile when every thing is laid out.

As if on cue, the group comes stumbling into the kitchen, hungry and ready for some good food. You remember a few of their names from the night before as you hand out cinnamon buns, joking about how you all need nametags. You get a few curious glances as to why you’re behind the counter, but for the most part, breakfast is smooth sailing. This time you make sure there’s enough left for Sam, Dean and yourself before you all go out to the library to eat with everyone else.

You stand in the doorway for a moment, unsure of where to sit. It wasn’t that you were antisocial or anything, but over the past year, you had slowly begun to keep to yourself more and more. Besides your old job at the restaurant, you had stopped going out all together. This whole experience was new in a lot of ways, including throwing yourself back into talking to people.

Taking it one step at a time, you approach a smaller group of people who are sitting at the end of the table, talking amongst themselves. You take a deep breath and stand behind an open chair.

“Is this seat taken?” you ask them, pointing to the empty chair.

One of the boys, the one who you had sat next to last night, smiles up at you. “It’s all yours.”

You sigh internally and slide into the wooden chair, setting your plate down.

“It’s Y/N, right?” he asks, looking at you pointedly.

You don’t hide your smile. “Yeah,” you nod. “What’s yours?”

“I’m Jack. This is Garrett,” he points his chin towards a tall, good-looking guy, who smiles at you with ultra-white teeth. “This is Brenda, and this is Penny.”  
Brenda is impossibly small, especially for a hunter. She smiles at you brightly, her brown almond-shaped eyes sparkling as she sticks out her hand for you to shake. “Hi!”

You can’t help but giggle at her quirky introduction. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you.”  
On Brenda’s right, you see Penny roll her icy blue eyes with annoyance. She looked like she had walked right off the pages of a _Sports Illustrated_ magazine. Her bright blonde hair was immaculately put in place, making her smooth skin look even paler. Even though she was good looking, her glaring made you want to wither back into your seat.

 _Great,_ you think, _it was like high school all over again._

“So, Y/N,” Garrett leans forward, his voice velvety smooth, “that story you told yesterday was pretty gnarly. I can’t believe you took down a whole wendigo by yourself without even knowing what it was.”

You want to wince at the praise in his voice. You knew he wasn’t trying to be callous on purpose, but the glee in his green eyes was making you a tad uneasy. 

“Yeah,” you agree half-heartedly, moving the food around on your plate, “it was _gnarly_.”

“So what’s up with you being on kitchen staff?” Penny speaks for the first time, her voice hard as nails. “Do you like playing Cinderella or something?”

You’re thrown off by her accusation. “I—no I don’t really—”

“Alright everyone!” Dean calls out to the room.

You sigh, grateful for the interruption. You glance at Penny, but her attention is now focused on Dean.

“For the first week, we’re going to focus on how to read lore books in the morning and after lunch, were going to sharpen our shooting skills in the gun range. Sounds good?”

There are a few agreements from the group, making Dean smile a little bit. “Okay. Breakfast is almost over, so eat up.”

His eyes scan the crowd for a second, before landing on you. You give him a tiny smile which he reciprocates before he sits down again, his eyes lingering for another moment before turning back to a few other students.

You turn back to your plate, a blush forming on your cheeks. Across the table, you hear Penny huff audibly, but you don’t look up, not yet wanting to break the spell that Dean has put you under.

* * *

The rest of the morning goes by smoothly. As it turns out, you _like_ research, as Dean has coined it.

“Research is one of the most important steps on any hunt,” Dean had said, walking around the table like he had last night. Old, dusty books were littered across the surface of the two tables in the library, some sitting in a pile waiting to be read and others being flipped through. “Once you catch wind of a case, you try and put together what you think could have done it. Then, you hit the books or the web and try to string together the common elements of each victim’s case.”

In front of everyone, Dean had leaned down behind you and whispered in your ear, “Luckily for me, Sam loves research.”

You had to suppress the giggle that rose in your chest. “I bet that makes your life easier, huh?”

He just smiled at you, green eyes shining. “Loads.”

You hid behind your hands, holding in your laughter at the wink he gave you before moving on with his lecture. When you had looked up, you felt the full force of Penny’s death glare from across the table. It quickly shut you up, though the feeling didn’t fade.

Lunch was a quiet affair of sandwiches and bagged chips. It worked out nicely that lunch was short—it gave you a perfect excuse to stay in the kitchen with Sam while everyone else ate out in the main room. You weren’t going to let Penny bully you out of the group, but it was nice to be out of the limelight for a while. 

Sam was great company. Dean was right; Sam loved research. His laptop was conveniently out, so during lunch, he and you browsed over a few sites as he showed you a few sneaky ways to get into major databases and other useful websites. Sam was more than willing to help you out, which made you completely forget about the awkwardness between your peers and you.

You had just finished cleaning up after lunch, which meant target practice. You couldn’t help the nervous feeling in the pit of your stomach at the thought of shooting. If you were going to be a hunter, you had to be ready to use a gun. Over the past year, you had only used your gun twice, if you didn’t include shooting cans. The heavy weight of the gun in your hand made you nervous as you waited in line with everyone else.

Everyone was to go into the range three at a time with Dean, seeing as there were only three targets. Dean had made sure everyone had empty clips before he stepped in with the first group.

You find a spot on the cement wall and take a seat on the cold ground, wary of the gun in your hands. Your peers were acting like it was no big deal, but you thought differently; guns meant death and violence and blood. Yes, they were necessary, but the thought still made you a bit queasy.

“Hey, Y/N,” Brenda greets, snapping you out of your thoughts. She slides down the wall next to you, giving you a small smile. “You okay? You don’t look so good.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” you lie, feeling a little sick. Maybe Dean was right; maybe you _weren’t_ cut out to be a hunter.

“Don’t worry about it,” Brenda comforts you, patting one of your knees that’s curled to your chest. “It takes some practice. I grew up around guns and I still feel like I can’t get a decent shot in.” She looks around the room at everyone messing around. “I guess that’s why I’m here though, right?”

You nod, wanting to reassure her and yourself. You decide to change the subject. “So, you grew up in the life?”

Brenda tells you all about her life as a young hunter, how she would go to school for nine months out of the year with her mother, then spend the summer hunting with her father. 

“I’m pretty sure I was the only cheerleader in my high school that had a werewolf kill under her belt, that’s for sure.”

You giggle into your palm. Brenda was funny and easy-going, a person who you could easily count as a friend. Not only was she the only other girl here, besides Penny, but she had a quiet, quirky charm about her that made her easy to like.

The door to the gun range swings open; the room must be soundproof, because you hadn’t heard a single shot. Three of your classmates exit the room, including Jack. Dean followed them out.

“Next up, I’ll take Brenda, Garrett, and José.”

Brenda pats your knee again, this time in excitement. She springs up onto the balls of her feet effortlessly, and you can picture her as a cheerleader. “See you,” she wiggles her eyebrows, turning on her heel and walking into the gun range before José, Garrett, and then Dean.

You look around the room, seeing whom you were going to go in with.

 _Just my freaking luck,_ you grumble internally. _Penny_.

It doesn’t take long for Brenda’s group to finish. You clamber up from the ground awkwardly, dusting off your jeans in the process. From across the room, Penny follows suit and stands up to her full modelesque height.

“Our last group of the day is going to be Penny and Y/N,” Dean’s voice rings out clearly. You can’t help the little flutter in your heart when your name rolls off his tongue. 

You take a deep breath. _Okay, Y/N,_ you think, making your way into the gun range, _you can do this._

Once all three of you are inside, Dean shuts the heavy door. He turns to the two of you, green eyes as bright as ever. His gaze lands on you first, but quickly travels to Penny, whose usual scowl is replaced with a dainty smile that makes you want to roll your eyes.

 _This isn’t a competition,_ you want to tell her.

That’s just it though; it _wasn’t_ a competition. Compared to her, you were mousy, small. You didn’t know what types of girls Dean liked, but considering he could get anyone he wanted, the chances weren’t looking good for you, especially with the blonde bombshell next to you.

You shake your head; not only should you be focusing on the freaking weapon that you were about to be shooting, but you really shouldn’t be thinking of Dean as anything but your teacher… at least as long as you were in front of his students. 

“Alright,” Dean starts, standing in front of a small table decked out in a ton of gear, including handguns, bullets, and everything in-between. “First I’m going to show you how to load your magazine clip, then we’ll get to the actual shooting.”

Dean is patient with you. Of course, perfect Penny gets everything correct right away, and she isn’t afraid to rub it in. You can’t help but smile slyly when Dean congratulates her quickly then moves right back into helping you. The attention he gives you almost makes you forget how utterly annoying your partner is.

Once you can finally load the gun by yourself without fumbling too much, Dean says that both of you are ready to move onto actually shooting. He hands the pair of yellow noise-cancelling headphones to Penny, but puts them on you himself. Your heart starts to thud when he slips them over your ears, brushing your hair out of your face gently. You instinctively bite your lip, feeling your face heat up at your proximity. 

You feel like a freaking schoolgirl, which, as it turns out, you kind of were.

He just gives you a little smile and turns to Penny, getting her all set up to shoot. Your head is still a little fuzzy from your interaction; you don’t even notice that time has passed until Dean’s in front of you, ready to help you with your aim.

 _Okay, focus,_ you beg of yourself. _Forget that he’s inches away, draping himself over you with his strong, agile, ripped body…_

If you even hit the target today, you would be surprised.

Dean was a good teacher, though; he taught you how to stand properly and how to aim accordingly. You ignore the flutter of your heart as he uses his larger hands to move your hips a certain way or as he communicates with you without speaking. You ended up hitting the target every single time; it wasn’t a bull’s eye or anything, but you couldn’t help but smile at your progress.

When your clip was empty, you looked up at Dean; his sparkling green eyes were trained on your face, his expression part pride and surprise.

‘Great job,’ he mouths at you. You couldn’t hear him over the headphones.

‘Thanks,’ you mouth back before your tongue slips between your teeth to keep your cheesing to a minimum. 

He gives you a quick wink before he tucks his gun into the back of his jeans. He takes his headphones off then removes yours, his fingers lingering on your face for a moment before he drops his hand. 

You were pretty sure you had stopped breathing.

Penny comes around the divider then; her own headphones wrapped around her neck with a sour look on her face. “Are we done here, Dean?” she asks harshly.

Dean looks taken aback for a moment, but he collects himself quickly. “Uh, yeah. Great job, girls.”

Penny turns around quickly and leaves the room with a huff, dropping her gear off before leaving. Dean gives you a questioning look, but all you can do is shrug.

“You were really great, Y/N,” Dean mentions as you unload all your stuff onto the table. “I’m really impressed.”

“Thank you, Dean. Though I could use some work on my aim…” you trail off, avoiding his eyes, your cheeks already flushed.

“If you ever wanted some extra time in the range, you know I’d be happy to help. I’m sure we could arrange a private session?”

You glance up at him, his eyes still smoldering. His eyebrow is arch suggestively, giving you a flutter of hope. 

“I’d really like that.”

“Well… good. We better get out there,” he nods his head to the door.

 _Right, the class._ How was it that he could make you forget everything else, even for a little while?

“You’re right. Plus we have to plan for dinner too, huh?”

Dean groans dramatically, making you giggle. “If I had thought about how much you guys eat, I never would have opened up shop.”

“Oh, you love it,” you tease, nudging him in the ribs with your shoulder.

He looks down at you again, a full-blown grin on his face. “Yeah, yeah I guess I do.”


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Dean Winchester, one of the best hunters in the game, decides to open a school for new hunters, you immediately jump on the opportunity. The only thing that you weren’t counting on? Falling for your new teacher.

The rest of the week is chock-full of learning. Dean, with Sam’s help, taught all of you how to make Fake I.D.s, crack into multiple databases, and even had you guys run through fake interviews as if you were questioning witnesses. You have to admit, putting on a show and pretending to be someone else is probably more satisfying than it should be… or maybe it’s more from the proud smile Dean gives you as you run through another interview smoothly and convincingly. Either way, you’re proud of yourself—a feeling you haven’t felt in a long, long time.

Your improved skills in the gun range don’t go unnoticed either. By the end of the week, you’re able to hit a bull’s eye from multiple angles and positions, thanks to Dean. You took him up on his offer of private sessions, and anytime you were both free, you snuck to the range and practiced. More than proud, you feel powerful, like someone who could hunt alongside Dean and hold her own; with some more time and practice, perhaps you could. The thought gives you a tingling sensation deep in your gut, along with a feeling that you can’t put your finger on. All you know is that you want _more_.

* * *

“Hey, Y/N,” Dean starts while the two of you are making dinner on Friday night, “would you mind going shopping with me tonight? I’d ask Sam but someone should probably stay here…”

You don’t want to sound too excited, but your heart is thudding with anticipation. “Yeah, sounds great.”

He gives you an uncharacteristically shy smile and goes back to grinding up meat for his homemade meatloaf. You bite your lip to keep yourself from grinning too widely at the thought of you and Dean being out tonight, alone, without the judgmental eyes of your classmates. The eagerness is enough to get you through the rest of the day on Cloud 9.

After dinner, you decide to scrub away the day’s grime in a hot shower. The hot water is distracting—something that you need right now. In less than an hour, you will be alone, in a car, with Dean. The thought alone is enough to have you breathing heavy. You take extra care to make sure you’re looking good as you leave the bathroom.

You change your outfit twice, but you’re finally ready to go shortly after everyone is supposed to be in bed. Slipping out of your room, you sneak to the bottom of the stairs where you said you’d meet him. You sit at the bottom of the spiral staircase and wait, trying to calm the nervous butterflies in your stomach.

“Hey,” Dean greets you quietly, causing you to jump. You hadn’t even noticed him approaching. He snickers softly and helps you to your feet. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” you say smoothly, wiping your clammy palms on your jeans. He rests his hand on your lower back as he leads you up the staircase; you’re grateful for his support, because his little force of habit is enough to make you swoon.

The two of you make it to the garage, stopping at a sleek black car that you hadn’t noticed before. Almost unconsciously, Dean runs two fingers over the paint with a faint smile on his face as he makes his way to the driver’s seat.

“It’s a very pretty car,” you comment honestly, wanting to smack yourself in the forehead the second it comes out. You clamber into the passenger seat and settle into the worn leather that smells faintly of Sam.

Dean doesn’t think your comment is stupid, though, his eyes lighting up. “She is, isn’t she?” He starts the car with a roar that slips into a loud purr. He pulls out of his spot and heads towards the underground tunnel that leads to the street. “Do you know anything about cars?”

“Not really, but I can appreciate them. My dad was a fan; I must get it from him.”

Dean’s eyes meet yours. Under the faint glow of the lights in the tunnel, his eyes look sad, but not out of pity. You unconsciously clasp your fingers around the locket at your neck.

“My dad was a fan, too,” Dean comments, his smooth tone masking some other emotion. Longing? Guilt? You weren’t sure. “He actually owned his own garage before he got into hunting.”

You’re on the main road that went through the woods now, the headlights and the moon your only source of light.

“What got him into hunting?”

His eyebrows knit together as he hesitates.

You regret your question immediately. “I’m sorry; you don’t have to tell me, honest.” Your fingers tangle together nervously in your lap.

His eyes flick to yours and he smiles warmly—something you weren’t expecting. “No, it’s okay. I mean, I made you share—with the entire class, no less.”

You can’t help but smile back at him, wordlessly assuring him that it was okay.

He sighs before turning his attention back to the road. “It’s a long story, but…

“My mom was beautiful and so, so smart. Her name was Mary.” The corner of his pink lips turn up into a smile. “I didn’t know this until later, but she was actually raised a hunter.” You want to interrupt, a million questions on the tip of your tongue, but you stop yourself. “When she married my dad, she gave up the life, saying she wanted a normal childhood for her kids. Obviously, that didn’t happen, but she tried.

“Everything was great until Sam was six months old. That was the night the demon came.” His voice drops a little, his grip on the steering wheel getting tighter. You want to tell him that he doesn’t have to finish his story, but he continues before you can.

“He killed my mom that night. Pinned her to the ceiling of Sammy’s nursery. There was a fire, and… and Sam and I barely made it out of there.” You can tell there’s something he’s leaving out, but you don’t push it.

“And the demon? What happened to him?”

“My dad spent twenty-two years looking for the bastard. He got close, so close, but he died before he got the chance to end him.” Now his sad smile turns into more of a snarl, something darker. “So, I killed him.”

A shiver runs down your spine. You’re not afraid of Dean, but you could see how someone could be. He had seen a lot, and killed even more. He is a great hunter, after all, and that takes seeing your fair share of evil.

“I’m really sorry about your parents, Dean.” You lay a hand on his knee, trying to comfort him.

He takes his eyes off the road to look down at your hand and then back up again. After lingering a moment too long, you pull away.

“Thank you,” he finally says, his voice strained. “You know, some days are easier, but some are…” He stops himself with a shake of his head.

You can’t help but sigh. You know exactly what he means. It seems that you and Dean have more in common than you thought.

“I do know.”

You share a sad smile then fall into a comfortable silence, only interrupted by Dean’s soft singing along with the radio and the hum of the car’s engine.

Dean’s voice is soothing, a comfort that you didn’t even know you needed. Every time your thoughts stray to your parents, you focus on his singing, and it brings you back to the present. For the rest of the ride, you close your eyes and just listen, wishing you could hear it more often.

* * *

“Okay,” you say as you and Dean enter the only 24-hour grocery store around, “so I made a list of possible recipes that we can make in bulk for the week and… what?”

Dean is looking at you with admiration and puzzlement. “Nothing, it’s just… you’re awesome.”

You almost snort, but he’s serious. You try not to blush at the approval in his eyes, like being ‘awesome’ to him was one of the most important traits a person could have. “Thanks,” you say simply, looking back at your list as your face flares up with heat.

“What’s first on the list?” he asks as he grabs a cart, rolling it back towards you.

“Pasta, and lots of it.”

The two of you walk towards the bread aisle, passing a very bored looking cashier who is popping her gum loudly. She barely acknowledges the two of you. The whole store seems to be empty, given the ridiculous hour. You idly wonder how this place could afford to stay open all the time.

“Okay,” Dean laughs, taking you by surprise, “we’ll never finish if you keep walking this slow.”

Out of nowhere, he picks you up by your hips, lifting you into the air like you weigh nothing more than a rag doll.

You can’t hold back the ridiculous giggles that escape you. “Dean!” you beg through your laughter, “Put me down!”

He complies, but not in the way you pictured. He plops you down into the base of the cart so you’re sitting, facing him and the handle. You can’t help but feel like a little kid again.

Dean has a ridiculously cute grin on his face, proud of his little scheme. “Much better, don’t you think?” he comments casually, pushing you and the cart towards the spaghetti. You roll your eyes and shake your head, but you can’t help but agree.

Dean grabs ingredients off the shelves based on the list. He tosses them at you, showing off and doing ‘trick shots’ in the middle of the aisle.

“Dean!” You playfully scold him as he chucks a bag of spaghetti at you from over ten feet away, narrowly missing the glass jars of sauce behind you. “You’re going to break something!”

He struts up to you with confidence and leans down over the handle of the cart, his face coming close to yours. “Then learn to catch.”

He’s close to you, his breath fanning over you, for just a second longer than normal. If you just leaned up and—

“What’s next?” Dean interrupts your thoughts as he pulls away, clearing his throat a bit. You want to pout, but you rattle off the next few ingredients instead. You feel a slight sting of rejection, but it soon fades as Dean smiles down at you and pushes you to the next aisle, riding on the cart while pushing with one foot like a kid would do. You admire his playfulness and kid-like wonderment as he pushes you up and down the aisles, glancing your way more than he probably should.

* * *

An entire hour later, you’re loading up the trunk of the Impala with groceries. “And you say I’m slow,” you joke, laughing at his pout.

“Wait,” Dean grabs your hand before you can put anything in the trunk.

“Why?”

He gives you a pointed glance and simply lifts up a false bottom to the trunk, revealing an entire arsenal of weaponry.

“Wow,” you breathe out, taking in the many guns, knives, and artillery.

“One day,” Dean murmurs as he avoids looking at you, his eyes on the trunk, “you’re going to have something like this.”

His eyes finally meet yours, looking sadder than they had been all night. The thought of having an arsenal to yourself, of being alone… it sent a shock through you that chilled you to the core. Maybe it was the close quarters or the new companionship, but being at the bunker… being with Dean, made you realize that maybe you didn’t want to be alone.

“Right,” you sigh again, casting your eyes down so that he can’t see your watery eyes.

After a pregnant pause, Dean lets out his own sigh. “C’mon, we better get these loaded up.” He drops the false bottom, and with that, the conversation. You pack the food up silently and get in the passenger side while Dean takes the cart back. You take the moment of silence to collect yourself and your thoughts before Dean will come back and invade them once again.

Dean comes back, and sure enough, you’re pulled to him like a magnet. A light drizzle had formed, amping up his woodsy smell and making his blondish hair shiny and spiky. You wanted to roll your eyes at how attached you were getting, but you can’t help it—he is here and you are hooked.

Besides the radio going, it’s a quiet car ride. Dean doesn’t even sing. You think that after a great night of being together, that maybe he will–

Dean’s stomach growls almost inhumanly loud. You can’t help the giggles that bubble up and fill the car. Dean cracks a smile and then breaks out into his own loud laughter, a buttery-smooth sound that makes your bones melt. Soon you’re gasping for a breath to calm down after your fit of laughter.

“So,” Dean chuckles out, looking at you over with bright eyes, “you up for fast food?”

* * *

Dean moans into his burger, his head falls back against the seat.

You giggle at his dramatic display of affection. “That good, huh?”

“Oh yeah,” he nods with a mouth full of food. “I mean, cooking is great and all, but sometimes you just gotta just chow down on some greasy take out. Though I don’t know what the hell you’re doing.”

“What?” you squeak out as you dip another fry into your shake. “It’s delicious.”

“It’s disturbing.”

“It’s a California thing,” you defend your food quirk as you eat another fry covered in chocolate malt.

All it takes is Dean asking you where you grew up, and suddenly you’re telling him all about your childhood. From living near the beach and going to college to your old boyfriends and favorite school subjects. You can count on one hand the amount of people you had shared these pieces of your life with. It was seemingly trivial information, but as he eats, he stares at you with unwavering eyes, asking follow up questions that launch you off on another tangent. You can’t remember the last time you talked about yourself so much and so honestly.

His burger is long gone by the time you finish with another story and finally fall into silence. It feels good to open up about yourself and share intimate parts with him. It’s something that you wanted him to do, you realize. It’s something you can see the two of you doing together for a long time.

There’s a lull in the conversation. You feel his eyes on your face as you stare down at your lap, a million thoughts racing through your head. You sit in companionable silence until the weight of his gaze is too much to take.

“De—”

You can’t even get his name out before he’s leaning across the seat and bringing his face towards yours. It happens so fast that you don’t even realize it—he’s kissing you.

His plush lips are as soft as you imagined them to be. At first he just cradles your face and holds you close, his lips harsh and unmoving, until you melt into his arms, sighing in the process. You let your guard down and let your inhibitions fly out the window before you practically climb into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

His lips are moving now, along with his hands. They move from your face down to your hips, pulling you closer to him until you’re straddling him, your chests touching. Your fingers card through his short hair, still damp from the rain outside, which was now coming down harder than before.

You finally have to pull away for a proper breath, but he doesn’t stop. His lips move down to your jaw, traveling down your throat and to your collarbone, where he softly bites down. You buck your hips into his automatically, his action sending unexpected shivers down your spine. He hisses under his breath at the contact, his lips meeting yours even more urgently than before. His tongue slips into your mouth now, and you can’t help but whimper quietly as his tongue and hands simultaneously caress you.

“Dean,” you can’t help but whine when he bites down on your bottom lip gently, practically teasing you.

Dean curses quietly when your hands go to the button on his jeans. You’re just about to pop it when your phone goes off.

You groan in irritation. You slip your phone out of your back pocket and check the caller ID.

When you meet Dean’s eyes, you expect him to be playful, or at least blasé about the situation, but they’re blank, like a wall has gone up. You want to ask him what’s wrong, but you answer the call instead, trying to convey your concern.

“Hey Tracy,” you answer, your focus on Dean. He’s avoiding your eyes, staring out the window.

As Tracy asks you how Dean’s teaching is going, you answer in short, one-worded answers, worry blossoming in your chest. After a minute of idle conversation about Tracy’s new case, she realizes that you’re probably busy.

“Yeah… Sorry Trace. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Once I wrap up this djinn case, maybe I’ll swing by and see you and the boys?”

“Sounds great, Trace. Call me when you’re done.”

You quickly say goodbye and throw your phone down on the seat.

“I’m sorry about that,” you apologize, trying to get a reaction out of him. “I thought it might be important, but I guess… Is everything alright?”

“Y/N…” Dean starts, his voice deeper than before. He slides you off his lap and into the seat next to him. “We can’t do this.”

“What?” your voice cracks, your confidence spiraling. “What’s wrong?”

“I— we just can’t, okay?” his voice taking on a rough edge.

You want to ask him what had changed, but you’re stubborn streak takes over. “Fine. Ready to go?”

Peaking up at him, he almost looks taken aback, like he expected you to fight him. You want to smile smugly but you just buckle your seatbelt and cross your arms over your chest, ready for the awkward ride home.

With a shake of his head, he starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot towards the bunker. After a minute of awkward silence, Dean turns on the radio to low, then shuts it off again. The rain had let up enough for the two of you to get home in a reasonable amount of time. After ten minutes of silence and awkward glances, you finally make it to the garage. The second he’s parked, you jump out of the car to grab the groceries. You may be pissed, but you didn’t need to be petty.

You grab as many plastic bags as you can without the handles ripping and book it down to the kitchen without glancing back at him. You quickly unload all of the refrigerated items first, not speaking when he slumps into the kitchen after you.

After you’re all done, you turn around to face him. He’s leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes watching your every movement. You couldn’t take the silence anymore, letting out a exasperated sigh.

“Anything else that you need from me?”

He rolls his eyes. “Y/N, I’m sorry, really. It’s…”

“Yeah? What, Dean? What happened?” You gravitate towards him, putting your hands on his broad hips, staring straight in his eyes. “We had such a good time together, and I just thought it was going well.”

He shrugs out of your embrace, walking towards the kitchen doorway. “What was going well? Us fucking around? Sorry sweetheart, but there was nothing going on.”

Thank God his back is towards you so he doesn’t have to see you breakdown. His shoulder muscles are taut, his breathing harder than usual. “You should go to bed; it’s way past curfew.”

You scoff to mask your hurt. “Whatever you say, _Mr. Winchester._ ” You blow past him in a huff, not waiting to see his reaction to your snub.

That night, you toss and turn, sleep evading you. All you can think of is the possible reasons he would have stopped you. All week he had been dropping hints about the two of you, sneaking glances and touches. What could have turned him off to the whole idea of the two of you so fast? When sleep finally comes, it’s a restless one, filled with hurt and fiery green eyes.

* * *

You spend the weekend in your room, only leaving to go to the kitchen and the bathroom. There’s no training on the weekends, so you sulk in your room for the two days, avoiding the questioning eyes of Brenda and Jack. You only have one awkward encounter with Dean on Sunday morning, literally stumbling into him while you were getting water.

“Y/N, hey,” he stutters out, his hand scratching the back of his neck.

“Hey,” you say curtly, turning on your heel and leaving quickly, not ready to face him yet. Seeing him brings on a whole new wave of rejection and hurt.

You spend the rest of the day reading and sleeping, trying to prepare yourself to see him all day tomorrow, unsuccessfully trying to push your feelings to the back burner.

 


	4. Part Four

You groan into your pillow when your alarm wakes you up on Monday morning. You want to fall back into sleep, a place with no problems or responsibilities, but you swing yourself up and out of bed instead. Running away won’t solve anything.

You take a quick shower and dress for the day, up and ready even earlier than usual. You take calming breaths as you walk to the kitchen, preparing yourself to face Dean.

You’re surprised when it’s Sam you run into. He was flipping pancakes expertly, looking more domestic than you had ever seen him.

“Good morning,” he greets, a wide smile on his face.

“Hey, good morning.” You grab two mugs for coffee, trying to nonchalantly bring up his brother. “Where’s Dean?”

“’Said he wasn’t feeling well. Don’t worry; he’ll be up by the time training starts.”

Dean missing training was far down on the list of worries, but you kept that to yourself.

Sam lets out a dramatic huff, a playful smile on his lips. “Guess you’re stuck with me.”

You play along, nodding solemnly. “Guess so.”

Once you get some caffeine in your system, you’re almost back to your usual self. Sam only mentions your absence over the weekend once, which you quickly deflect by blaming a bad migraine. At least with Sam around, you can pretend that you’re happy with everything going on. You cook in a comfortable, companionable quiet.

Brenda is the first one to breakfast, her features full of worry. You immediately feel bad about ignoring her all weekend. You give her the same story that you gave Sam: an awful migraine. Her features turn from worried to guilty, and you feel horrible for lying to her. Lies— what a great thing to base your new friendship on.

“Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better,” she says with earnest, leading you to the little table in the kitchen, the one big enough for four if you squished.

You start to pick at the fruit on your plate. “Yeah, me too.”

“I really missed you last night. I mean, the guys are great and all, but a girl can only to listen to so many ‘bro’ stories in one night.”

She peaks your interest. “What happened last night?”

“Oh, we all went out to the local bar. Even Dean came.”

You were surprised and sure that you were showing it. “Really?” you can’t help but ask, a little too much interest in your voice for usual table gossip.

“Oh yeah,” Brenda laughs, stabbing her pancakes with her fork. “He got shitfaced; it was hilarious. He even got up and did karaoke.”

You almost spit out your coffee. Here you were, distraught and sulking in your room all weekend, while he was out partying and living it up. Maybe you really did mean nothing to him. The thought makes you lose your appetite.

You have to force yourself to ask the question that was bugging you the most. “Did anyone bring a date home?”

“No, nothing like that,” she pouts, looking thoroughly disappointed. “We were all home by midnight. Though I do think there’s something going on with Garrett and Penny…”

“You think?”

You fake interest and enthusiasm as Brenda launches into her analysis of their behavior throughout the night. You nod along and ‘mmm’ at the right parts, but Dean is on the brain. Suddenly you were worried that you really  _ had _ read into your attraction more than you should have.

You’re about to ask Brenda another question about a possible prospect for her from the bar when Dean walks into the kitchen. Your words get caught in your throat at the sight of him.

“Morning, ladies,” Dean smiles at the two of you. He winces a little as the cabinet he was riffling through slams shut when he closes it.

“How’s the hangover?” Brenda asks with a teasing smile.

Dean pours a large cup of coffee as meanders over to your table, slower than you’ve ever seen him move. “Let’s just say I haven’t drank that much for fun in a long time.”

Dean sits next to Brenda, his eyes on you. You’re all officially squished at the tiny table, closer to him than you have been all weekend.

“Well, I’m glad you had fun,” you comment, sipping on your own coffee.

Dean reaches out and steals a strawberry from your plate; if you had known he was going to do it, you would have smacked his hand away. You decide then and there that if he didn’t care, then you weren’t going to either.

“It was fun. We missed you, though,” Dean baits, testing the waters.

You narrow your eyes and glare at him over your cup. “I’m sure.”

Brenda kicks you under the table, giving you a look. “Sorry about her,” Brenda cuts in, sensing the animosity between the two of you, “she had a migraine all weekend. Right, Y/N?”

You give him a fake, tight smile. “Yeah, that’s all. But I’m fine now.”

He gets the double entendre of your words. Dean’s eyes are fiery, like he’s trying not to say anything too revealing in front of Brenda. “Well I’m glad to hear you’re doing okay.”

“Great.”

“Great.”

“ _ O _ kay,” Brenda cuts in again. “It’s almost time to start today, right Dean?”

His narrowed eyes look from you up to the clock on the wall. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll see you ladies later?”

At the very last second, Dean snags another piece of fruit off your plate and books it towards the door. You could almost scream at the annoyance.

“What in the hell was that about?” Brenda turns back to you, her eyes wide with confusion.

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb. What’s the matter with the two of you? Last week you were the best of friends, and now…?”

You roll your eyes and huff out a sigh, plastering on a fake smile. “Oh, it’s just a bit of friendly rivalry. More of a running joke.”

Now it’s Brenda’s turn to narrow her eyes in suspicion. “Whatever you say.”

“Ready to go?” you ask her, dreading seeing him again.

“Ready to admit you’re hiding something?” You jaw drops at her implication but she just laughs, following up with, “I’m kidding, Y/N.”

You laugh it off, but decide to cool it with Dean, at least while Brenda’s keen eyes were watching.

The two of you clean up and join the others out in the library. Everyone is settling into their seats and getting ready for the day’s lesson.

“This week,” Dean starts when everyone is quiet, “we’ll be learning about specific types of monsters—how to track them, identify them, and kill them. Then, in the afternoon, we’ll be in the gym learning some hand-to-hand combat skills.” Dean walks around the table, passing out papers to each of you. He pauses when he gets to you. “Today we’ll be focusing on ghosts and shape shifters. Y/N, why don’t you read the first paragraph for everyone?”

You grumble under your breath, “What are we, in first grade?”

“What was that?” Dean asks cockily, staring down at you pointedly, daring you to say something else.

“Nothing. I’d love to.”

Taking on his silent challenge, you launch into reading your part, making your voice loud and clear for the entire room to hear. After two long paragraphs of lore on ghosts, you’re about to start the next line when he cuts you off.

“Thank you, Y/N. José, why don’t you take over.”

You just smile ruefully to yourself, knowing that you had won the battle. You read along with José, trying desperately to focus on the work in front of you rather than the gaze that you knew was coming from him.

After the reading, Dean has you pair up and quiz each other on basic facts about ghosts and shifters. 

You pair up with Garrett, who’s more than willing to match your enthusiasm—even if you were more interested in taking a dig at Dean rather than killing monsters.

Just as you and Garrett finish your questions, Sam comes into the room to talk quietly with Dean. There voices are just muffled enough so it’s impossible to overhear them. After a few nods from Dean, Sam leaves again, walking down the hallway towards all the bedrooms.

“Hey everybody,” Dean calls, his voice carrying over the loud chatter. “Change of plans. Sam has caught wind of a case not far from here. I think it would be beneficial for you to get out in the field, so I’ll be taking two of you on this one with me. Sam will hold down the fort while we’re gone and he’ll lead the scheduled training. First off, I’ll take… Garrett.” You laugh when Garrett does a little fist pump. You turn back to Dean and realize he’s staring right at you. Your heart flutters at the possibility to go out with him for an extended amount of time. “With Garrett, I’ll take,” he smirks at you before his eyes flick to someone over your shoulder, “Penny.”

It takes every fiber of your being to stop your jaw from dropping. You hear Penny giggle annoyingly behind you as you gawk at Dean; he’s still got that stupid smirk on his face, looking straight at you.

You may have won the battle, but so far, he was winning the war.

“That being said, the three of us will be leaving after lunch, so until then, let’s get back to the different variation of spirits.”

The entire rest of the lesson, you have to stop yourself from pounding your head into the desk in front of you. Penny goes on and on about getting chosen first, her giggles becoming cringe worthy. You share a look with Garrett, who doesn’t exactly look pleased with being stuck with her, even if they did have something going on.

Soon it’s lunchtime, and everyone is crowding in the kitchen. You hand out cut up vegetables to everyone and trying to ignore the weight of Dean’s eyes on you as he works next to you. Once the line is gone and everyone is out eating in the library, you turn to Dean; he’s already staring at you, ready for your attack.

“Great choices out there,” you start, motioning your head out to the library.

“I think so too,” he replies in a snarky tone. “I usually stick to my decisions.”

You automatically cross your arms over your chest, trying to make it seem like the double meaning behind his words didn’t hurt you. “That’s a great characteristic trait.”

His arms are crossed too, looking way more intimidating than you did. “I agree. You know what isn’t, though? Pettiness.”

Your eyes narrow at him, your mouth twisting into a scowl. “Have fun with Penny,” you spit out, venom in your voice.

“I will.”

You turn on your heel and stalk out of the kitchen, bee lining to your room. You fight the urge to slam the door shut in your rage. You throw your duffle bag up on the bed and start to throw your clothes in, not bothering to fold anything. You just wanted out; you never wanted to see his stupid, smirking face again.

Almost everything of yours is packed when you get to the photo album that was tucked into the tiny drawer in the bedside table.

You sink down onto the cold ground, opening the cover. You trace the smiling faces of your family as you feel the tears start to form.

_ What were you doing?  _ Were you really going to throw away such an amazing opportunity on a  _ boy? _ You think back to the things you’ve already learned in such a short amount of time.

You grit your teeth and wipe your hot tears away. You were not going to let Dean kick you out of some valuable hunting lessons. On the bright side, you at least had a couple of days to clear your head of him while he was out on the hunt. It would be good to have some space from him and focus on your training.

“You’re leaving?” you hear. You turn towards the door, which is being pushed open carefully by none other than Dean.

“Yeah?” you lie, wanting to gauge his reaction.

His green eyes tear away from your packed-up duffle to you, his eyes filled with concern and… guilt?

He opens his mouth to speak, but closes it once again. After a minute of him staring, he sighs. “If that’s what you really want, Y/N. I can’t stop you, but I really think you should stay.”

You had expected him to shrug it off and show no concern whatsoever. You’re flabbergasted for a moment before you pull yourself together. “I’ll think about it,” you promise, even if your mind was already made up.

He nods and reaches for the doorknob. Before the door closes, your thoughts bubble up your throat. “Good luck,” you say honestly.

His eyes flick back to yours and his lips pull up in a half-smile. “Bye, Y/N.”

He shuts the door softly, leaving you alone. You lean your head back onto the side of your bed, letting out a sigh of your own. After a few moments to yourself, you get up from off the ground, dust yourself off, and refold all your clothes, tucking them back into their respective drawers.

***

On Friday, you’re entire body is sore. Sam may be a sweetheart, but he was training you guys  _ hard _ . Your muscles had that delicious burn in them since you started hand-to-hand combat on Monday.

Your newfound ability to focus on training had done you wonders. You were picking up lore fast and combat techniques even faster. On Thursday, you had even pinned Jamie down once, who was easily the best fighter in the group.

You were just about to go against Jack when Penny steps into the room.

The fight is forgotten by the others as they greet Penny, who’s followed in by Garrett and Dean. They all looked unscathed, much to your relief.

Dean says hello to Sam quickly, his eyes sweeping over the room. His eyebrows are pulled together, his eyes crinkling in concern. Your heart starts to thud unevenly.

If you were lying to yourself, you would tell yourself that the sight of him left you unaffected. Who were you kidding, though? The fact that he was back made your heart soar with relief and happiness, butterflies erupting in your stomach once again. You had given it much thought while he was gone, and you still came to the same conclusion every time—you were hopelessly, shamelessly infatuated by him.

When Dean’s eyes meet yours, his face falls from one of concern to one of relief. You give him a tiny smile and a wave, staying back from the crowd. His eyes crinkle cutely as he flashes you a genuine smile.

Once everyone has said hello to the hunting party, their focus turns back to the mats. Jack steps back to his previous spot across the makeshift ring from you.

You hear Brenda talking you up to Dean from across the room. You roll your eyes—honestly, you weren’t that good.

“Well if she’s that good, I gotta see this for myself,” you hear Dean say loudly so even you can hear. Toeing off his boots, he walks to where Jack is and pats him on the shoulder. “I’ll take this one, bud.”

Jack looks annoyed, but he doesn’t complain as he takes a seat on one of the gym equipment’s bench.

You raise your eyebrow at him and smirk. He just cocks his head, challenging you wordlessly.

Sam counts down from three and you slink into a fighting stance. So far this week, you weren’t throwing real punches, but Dean could take it. It was your way of revenge for all the shit he put you through on Monday.

The two of you move together, circling each other, inching forward each time. You could tell he was calculating his movements, and you think of the perfect way to take down the expert hunter.

After a few tense moments, Dean strikes first, pouncing towards you. You easily dodge his action, but now he’s close. You throw a wimpy punch, which he easily blocks. You can see the smirk form on his face and you know you’ve got him.

He anticipates another weak throw, just as you want him to do. This time, he grabs ahold of your arm and takes you down to the ground to pin you. At the very last moment before your back hits the mat, you plant your feet. Using all your force, you use his bodyweight against him and roll him to his back, his shoulders pinned to the mat as you straddle his waist. The breath is knocked out of him long enough for you to pin him for the three seconds you need.

You faintly hear Brenda’s cheers when Sam counts your win. All you can focus on is the proximity of your face to Dean’s. He’s smiling brightly, if not in mild shock.

“You stayed,” is all he says, his breath mingling with yours as his eyes twinkle brightly.

You can’t help the giddy smile that breaks across your face. “Of course I stayed. I had to kick your ass somehow.”

He just laughs and helps you up and off of him, finally realizing the two of you weren’t alone.

Brenda is patting you on the back happily. You tear your eyes away from Dean long enough to smile at her. Jack high-fives you happily as Brenda babbles on and on about your “awesome skills”. You smile and nod along, but can’t help but find Dean in the little crowd, sharing yet another heartwarming smile.

***

At dinner, everyone sits out in the library, listening to Garrett and Penny recount every second of their hunt. It was a simple salt-and-burn (as Dean has taught you it’s called) in Cincinnati, but to them, it was the most exciting thing in the world. You can’t help but get sucked into their words, getting excited to go on your own hunt with Dean.

Today had been particularly hard as you learned more about wendigos. You were keeping a tight cap on your emotions, but it had been hard. Now that Dean was back, though, all of your bad feelings had evaporated, replaced by a fuzzy kind of calm.

As Garrett explains the aliases he and Penny chose, you feel a socked foot knock into yours. You look across the table at Dean in surprise, but he’s focusing on the story, a proud little smile on his face. You ignore it, until it happens again. Dean looks aloof, but you can tell he’s just messing with you. Instead of fighting the pull, you do the same back to him, entwining your feet together under the table. Now, his smile turns to one of happiness.

***

“I can see you redecorated,” Dean comments, coming into your room. It’s well-passed eleven now, and you were laying in bed reading.

You follow his gaze up to your walls, where after your crisis on Monday, you decided to try and make your room a little more lived-in. Now, they were filled with all the pictures that you had, including your scenery shots that you had taken over the past year you spent alone.

Dean leans against the doorway, a faint smile on his pink lips. You bookmark your place and close your book, placing it on the bedside table as you criss cross your legs. “Come in.”

He does, shutting the door behind him. Your breathing picks up at what it could mean as he sits on the edge of your bed, facing you. In the dim light of your bedroom, he looks a little happier than he did on Monday when he left.

“What made you stay?” he asks out of nowhere.

“I told you,” you say, making him roll his eyes. “Fine. Not only did I want to stay and learn but… I couldn’t leave.”

“Is that all?” he asks, his voice a little strained. His eyes were everywhere but yours, making him look almost nervous.

Your hands tangle together in your lap. “I mean, I guess not, but… did you really think I would leave?”

His eyes finally meet yours, and you can see that he really did believe you would leave. “I almost didn’t go,” Dean admits quietly. “I almost gave up a hunt for you,” he almost scoffs, looking down at his own hands. “’S probably the first time I’ve done that.”

“Why?” you have to ask.

He shakes his head, faintly laughing to himself like your question was funny. “Why, Y/N? I don’t know, I guess. You’re special.”

That flare of anger over last week’s events comes to the surface. “If I’m so special then why did you push me away?”

He faces you now. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I am sorry about that. I… I didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you.”

You raise an eyebrow at his lame excuse. “That’s sweet, but what’s the real reason?”

He looks like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar when you call him out of his B.S. He sighs and runs a hand over his face. “I was worried about ruining it—okay? I don’t do commitment, Y/N, if you didn’t notice.” His voice drops into a low whisper, “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Did you ever think that maybe I’m scared of the same thing?”

He looks genuinely confused. You shuffle forward on your bed, getting close.

“I hardly dated in college, and I definitely didn’t date after I lost my family. I’ve never had a serious relationship before, Dean. I think that as long as we’re honest with each other… it’ll be okay.”

His features mold from concerned to relieved. He replaces his frown with his signature smirk. “We’ll be breaking a ton of rules… rules that I made.”

You crawl closer as he moves his body to welcome you. “We’ll we’ve already broken curfew, so what’s the point?”

You’re close now, your legs straddling one of his. His hands find your hips and pull you towards him, your chests touching now.

“I’m sorry I was a jerk this week. I thought it would be easier to forget about you if you hated me.”

Your hands tangle in his hair. “I forgive you. I’m sorry for being a brat; I’m surprised you even want anything to do with me after my tantrum.”

He lets out a breathy laugh. “It was cute… like an angry kitten.”

“An angry kitten that could pin you flat.”

His eyes turn fiery, green and bright. “That was really hot.”

It’s your turn to smirk. “Good.”

Your lips finally meet harshly, and it’s like you never left his embrace.


	5. Part Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *** S M U T T Y S M U T S M U T ***

Kissing Dean was like taking a deep breath after almost drowning. 

The second your lips touch, Dean tangles his hands into your hair and pulls you closer. The kiss is soft and sweet, both of you eager but not rushing a thing. Pent up emotions and patience sure did a make out session wonders.

You move from straddling one of his legs to his entire waist. You slowly push him down so he’s lying underneath you, similar to when you pinned him to the mat earlier today.

“God, I missed you,” he says breathlessly when you break apart for air.

You kiss your way down his chest, still covered by two too many layers. “Do you want this?” you whisper and press a chaste kiss to his exposed hipbone.

His eyes are smoldering in the dim light of your room. He’s watching your every move, but for once, he’s looking at you like you’re the predator. “Only if you do.”

You want to laugh; _of course_ you wanted this. You were hooked from the moment you met him. Had it only been two weeks? 

Instead of laughing you smile and nod, sinking down onto the floor, your knees on the cold cement.

“Y/N… you really don’t have to…”

You press a long kiss onto his hard length, still trapped in his tight jeans. He hisses and you do it again. “I want to,” you assure him.

Your hands are on the button of his jeans when there’s a knock at your door.

Dean immediately sits up, pulling you up from the ground and onto the bed before you even have time to blink.

“Who is it?” you ask, loud enough for the person on the other side of the door to hear.

“It’s Brenda. Can I come in?”

You want to roll your eyes, but you can’t; Brenda was a great friend and you were lucky to have her. She didn’t know any better.

You push Dean off your bed and point to your closet. “Just a sec, Brenda. _Go_ ,” you whisper the command to Dean. “She can’t see you in here!”

Dean complies, kissing you on the lips chastely before retreating to your closet. Luckily for him, you didn’t own many hanging clothes, so he had plenty of room.

“Come in,” you tell her just as Dean closes the closet door.

Brenda slips into your room soundlessly. She takes a seat on your bed where Dean was only moments ago.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, handing you a hot cup of tea. “I know today was hard for you.”

You could almost cry at her sweetness. “A lot better, thank you.”

She smiles with a wicked glint in her brown, almond shaped eyes. “I bet you’re happy that Dean is back.”

You almost spit out your tea. “Why do you say that?”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on, Y/N. There’s _definitely_ something going on between the two of you. I’m not blind, you know.”

You try to act casual. “Seriously, we’re just friends.”

She’s clearly not convinced. “Whatever you say.” She lets out a cute yawn and stands up. “I’m just glad you’re feeling better. Are you thinking about coming out with us tomorrow night?”

“Yeah,” you agree immediately, “sounds fun.”

“Plus Dean will probably be there,” she singsongs.

You just shake your head at her antics. No need to tell her how spot-on she really was. Was she just overly observant or was it that obvious?

“Goodnight, Brenda.”

She just winks on her way out, closing the door quietly.

The second she’s gone, Dean is back, filling the room with his presence. “Are you okay?” he asks with a concern.

“Yeah, why?”

“She said you weren’t feeling well. Is that true?”

He mood swing makes sense now. You just smile up at him, looking taller than usual in his standing position. Your hands go to his hips, holding onto the cute little softness he had there.

“Sam was teaching us about wendigos today. It was hard, but I’m a lot better now.” You peek up at him from under your lashes, giving him a genuine smile. 

“Oh yeah?” he says cheekily, bending down closer to you. “Why’s that?”

You stand up, your lips hovering just centimeters apart from each other. “Take one guess.”

When your lips meet, the zinging feeling that you had experienced the very time you touched Dean was intensified tenfold. He’s more intense now, the short separation riling something up in him.

You speak up when he moves his plush lips down to kiss your neck. “You know—ah, we’re running low on meats and—ah!” you whimper when he bites down on your flesh. “Why don’t we go shopping?”

Dean pulls away, a slight flush on his freckled cheeks. “Meet me in the garage?”

“Five minutes?”

“Deal.” He gives you a hard peck on the lips then is slipping out your door.

When he’s out of earshot, you sigh in content. You put your hands to your face to calm yourself down, feeling yourself get flushed. The things he did to you…

You quickly change out of you pajamas and into something more appropriate for going out in. If the night went your way, though, you wouldn’t be wearing any clothes for long. Once you’re changed, you down your lukewarm tea in one gulp and slip on your Chucks, ready to go. You easily slip out of your room and pad through the library, going up the stairs and getting to the garage in no time.

Dean’s leaning against his car with his arms crossed over his chest, a coy smirk playing on his lips. “That was only four minutes, Y/N. I’d say someone is a little eager.”

You walk straight towards him, but at the last second turn on your heel and walk around to the passenger side. You giggle at the surprised look on his face.  
“Not as eager as some, I see.” With that, you get into the car, letting the familiar scent of leather and woods wash over you. Dean climbs in gracefully after you.

The two of you sit closer than last time, obviously more comfortable than just a week before. Before he starts the car, he leans over into your space, his face close to yours. His voice is barely audible when he breathes out a little, “Hey you.”

“Hey yourself.”  Your lips ghost over one another in an almost kiss before you pull away. “Come on; we don’t want to get caught.”

He rolls his eyes but sits back in his seat, starting the car and pulling out of his parking spot with a little too much excitement.

* * *

Half way to the grocery store, Dean pulls off the high way to a dirt road, going to what looks like nowhere. You raise your eyebrows at him but say nothing as he pulls into an empty grass field, the only scenery the dark night sky. He turns the car off and faces you, the moon barely illuminating his face.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks quietly, his eye piercing yours.

You nod, suddenly shy. You click your seatbelt off and rest your knees on the seat’s bench, getting close. “I’ll tell you if I wanna stop, Dean. Promise.”

You lips ghost over his pulse point on his neck. “I was serious when I said I didn’t want to take advantage of you.”

You cradle his face in your hands, making him look at you. “I know, Dean. I trust you. Let go, Dean.”

That’s all it takes—Dean’s façade crumbles fast as he pulls you into him, losing all his inhibitions as he kisses you fiercely. After a moment, you get an idea.

“Do you have a blanket?” you ask breathlessly.

He nods, pulling his keys out of the ignition. “Trunk,” he mutters, handing them to you. You’re a little surprised—Dean seemed to worship his car, and his easy ability to trust you gave you a little pang of hope.

You clamber out of the car, legs a little shaky from Dean’s expert lips, and open the truck, finding a large blanket balled up and shoved to the back. You quickly close the hood and make your way to the front of the car, passing the passenger side completely. As you lay the blanket out on the ground, you watch Dean watching you through the windshield, lust obvious in his eyes. He reaches into his glove compartment for something and quickly gets out of the car.

“Well, never done this before,” he admits, standing at the edge of the blanket.

You were surprised to say the least. Maybe there was a reason he hadn’t before. “It’s a warm night,” you offer, your voice falling slightly. “It could be fun. If you don’t want to, I get it, but I just thought—”

He interrupts your rambling by placing two fingers under your chin and tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “It’s perfect.”

It doesn’t take long for Dean to rid you of your clothes. You want to complain about losing your shoes, worried about the cold, but one lust-filled look from Dean shuts you up. He looks like he almost wanted this more than you, if you could believe it.

Once you’re left in only your bra and panties, you easily get Dean out of his many layers. You run your hands over his stomach, which was a delicious mix of firm and squishy.

“What’s this for?” you ask, pressing a soft kiss to the tattoo he had on his left pec.

“It’s an anti-possession tattoo,” he explains, his hands tangling in your hair. “Keeps the demons out.”

“Oh,” is all you say. You hadn’t even thought of that possibility before.

“You should get one,” he suggests. “Maybe you could get it here,” he presses a kiss to your ribs, “or here,” your stomach, “or here,” your hipbone, “or here,” he finally lands on the top of your thigh, right below your underwear line. His thumb runs circles over the place he had kissed you, then he sucks harder, sure to leave a mark. “Yeah, I like it right here.”

You shiver and tangle your hands in his short hair as his tongue soothes the welting mark left my his lips and teeth.

He positions himself on his knees in front of you, his nose running over your clothed clit. You’re already wet for him, almost embarrassingly so. You hadn’t been with a man in a long time, longer than you cared to admit, much less with a man like _Dean_. You felt the shyness creep back on you.

Dean looks up at you through thick eyelashes, his eyes still shinning in the dull moonlight. He looks at you like you’re the most wonderful thing he’s ever laid eyes on. With that look, it wasn’t hard to feel like you were.

He slips your panties off easily, and when you step out of them, the back of your knees hit the grill of the car. Dean gets a wicked glint in his eye at the sight of you.

“Lay down, babygirl,” he practically commands. You oblige; with his help, you lay across the hood, hair sprawled everywhere, your breasts trussed up by your bra. “Fucking gorgeous,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh.

You bite your lip to keep from crying out when he licks a stripe up your center.

“So fucking wet already, Y/N,” he murmurs in approval. “Let it go, Y/N. No one can hear you out here, baby.”

When his lips wrap around your clit, you can’t help but cry out loudly. You try to find purchase for your grip, but the hood of his car doesn’t offer much release. You finally snake your arms down to his hair, your nails scraping his scalp. He moans, the vibrations doing interesting things to your body.

He throws your legs over his shoulders and pumps two fingers into without warning. His fingers move in sync with his tongue, leaving you a moaning, heaving mess

Dean must know you’re close; it was like he knew your own body more than you did. “Come on, baby. That’s it.” 

Your heels dig into his shoulder blades harshly, your hands tugging on his hair, pulling him closer to your core. Your breathing is strained as you get closer to the edge. You feel yourself making that delicious climb towards bliss.

Right when you’re at the point when you think it’s all too much, Dean stops his motions completely, cutting you off. You want to scream in frustration until he simply licks your clit, setting you off. 

Wordlessly, you fall into your orgasm as Dean milks you for all you’ve got. When you’re utterly spent, he stands up and pulls you to him, locking his lips with yours. You taste the strange tangy taste of your arousal on his tongue; you had never thought of it as being hot until Dean did it. You were sure he could get you to do anything, to push your limits, if he asked you to.

“You’ll be the death of me,” you sigh in content against his lips. He just laughs and kisses you harshly.

Sometime in between kisses, he gets you out of your bra and you get him out of his boxers. The two of you were completely bare, stripped of all your inhibitions. When you sink down onto the blanket, you feel a blush rise on your cheeks, despite what the two of you had just done.

He drapes himself over you, his thumb rubbing circles on your cheek. “Blushing, after all that?” he says with a chuckle. It’s like he read your mind. 

You throw an arm over your eyes and let out a giggle to match his low rumbling laugh.

After some soft kisses, Dean’s hard erection presses into your side. “Eager, are we?”

“For you? Hell yeah.”

You roll your eyes and lay down on your back. He gets the hint and grabs something from the ground next to your feet. Before you can question it, he’s unwrapping the condom with his teeth. He pumps himself a few times before rolling on the condom, his eyes wide and wild.

“You ready?” he asks, his voice gravely. You just nod. You wanted this. You wanted him.

Dean teases your slit with the tip of his cock before sliding into you slowly, inch by inch. You head falls back, your eyes screwing shut at the sensation. When he’s filled you up to the hilt, he pauses so you can adjust to his large size. His lips find one of your nipples, circling the nub with his tongue. He lifts you off the ground enough to slip an arm under you, easily fitting one arm so he’s cradling your neck from behind, holding you close to him by the line of your spine. His other hand cradles your face softly, bringing his lips back to yours.

“Dean,” you breathe in between kisses, “you gotta move.”

His thrusts start slow and languid, making you feel every inch of him. Your toes curl into the blanket on their own accord, your breathing getting heavier. When you meet eyes, it’s easily the most intimate you had been with anyone. His slow movements allow the two of you to learn each other’s bodies, feel each other, and enjoy each other without worrying about chasing anything. It’s almost a surprise when your second orgasm hits you, as intense and as powerful as the first. Your aftershocks seem to go on and on as Dean picks up the pace a little, his own release close. He comes mid-kiss, whispering sweet nothings into your open mouth. The two of you stay curled up in one another for what seems like hours, sitting out under the stars and the blanket of the soft night.

 


	6. Part Six

“Why did you decide to train us, anyway?” you ask Dean on Saturday night. It had been a week since the first time you and Dean got together, and you couldn’t be happier. The two of you fit together like puzzle pieces; you were made to find each other. 

You glance over at the clock; the red numbers read 3 am. Well, Sunday morning. Everyone had just gotten back from the bar and you and Dean were wrapped up under the blankets of his bed, using each other for warmth. It had been hard to keep your hands off of each other while out with the others, especially after the rounds of shots that matched his. The two of you barely made it to his room before you fell into bed with him, ready for some wild, drunken fun. You had sobered up after a few orgasms, which had led to the slow and sweet sex you had just come down from.

Dean sighs and slings his arm around your shoulder, letting you nuzzle your face into his bare chest. The perfect pillow, if you did say so yourself.

“I’ve seen a lot of loss,” he admits, his voice still slow and surly. You wonder idly if he’s still drunk. “I figured, since people will keep hunting, might ‘s well teach ‘em how to do it right.” You’re content with the answer, but he continues. “I just… don’t wanna see anyone else get hurt, ya know?”

You rub his chest in slow, soothing motions. “Yeah, Dean, I know. I meant it when I said I think it’s really great what you’re doing.”

Dean only hums in response. When you glance up at him, his eyelids are slipping shut, sleep overtaking him. You continue to lay with him until he was passed out cold. Carefully, you slip out of his embrace. In his sleep, he groans, missing your presence, before he flips over onto his stomach, once again dead to the world. You run your fingers through his short hair, enjoying the simple moment. 

It had been hard sneaking around all week. The two of you wanted to keep a low profile; after all, the two of you were breaking one of Dean’s rules. You couldn’t wait until the day where you could walk around with him freely, not afraid of curious eyes or questioning glances. You had to admit, for as hard as it was, you thought the two of you were doing a pretty good job.

You quickly get dressed, ready to go back to your own room for some well-deserved sleep. You couldn’t risk staying in Dean’s room, not with everyone able to roam the halls freely. Much like Dean’s dating rule, the curfew rule was being broken left and right, by everyone.

You slip out of Dean’s room, making your way through the cold, winding hallway of the bunker towards your room.

“Breaking curfew, hey, Y/N?”

You turn to see Penny standing in her doorway, scantily clad in her pjs, if you could even call them that.

“Yeah, I guess. I was just getting water, you know…” You shift your weight from one foot to the next, anxious to get back to your room.

“Never pegged you for a rule breaker, but we all have our weaknesses, I suppose.” There was a harsh glint in her icy blue eyes but her words were stickily sweet.

You scratch the back of your neck, uncomfortable with this entire situation. “Right, well… I better get back before I get caught.”

“You’re right; we wouldn’t want you to get caught. Goodnight.”

She shuts the door before you can say another word.

You knew you should be worried about the double-entendre in her words, but you couldn’t focus on it; you would think about it at a later time when you didn’t have so much whiskey in your system and Dean still on the brain.

You slip into a peaceful sleep, ready for the week ahead of you.

***

You try to stifle your third yawn this lesson. Between partying over the weekend, hanging out with Dean, and getting up early this morning to cook breakfast, you were beat. You try to focus on what Dean was saying, but another yawn hits you, your eyes drooping, threatening to drag you down into a nap, right there on the table.

“Sam!” Dean yells, snapping you awake, if only for a moment.

Sam makes his way up to Dean, who’s standing in front of an old chalkboard that he had yet to write on. They exchange a few words before Sam nods.

Dean steps down from the board, eying you the whole time. Uh-oh. 

“Alright, guys,” Sam announces to everyone, “I’m taking over for a minute.”

Dean nods his chin to the kitchen; you stand up quietly, feeling guilt seep into your sleepiness. As you leave the library, you hear Sam say, “I’d take notes on this— it might be on you quiz.” You have to bite back a laugh; knowing Sam, he was completely serious.

When you come into the kitchen, you expect Dean to be mad; instead, all you see is worry in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asks, pulling you into a gruff hug.

You pull away, confused. “Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”

He rolls his eyes at your answer. “Maybe because you were sleeping through the lesson? Vampires are no joke, Y/N.”

“I know, I know,” you sigh. “I’m sorry. It’s just that someone has been keeping me up lately.” 

“Oh really?” he asks, a cheeky smile on his lips.

“Yeah,” you poke him in the stomach. “I think you may know him, too.”

Dean places a swift kiss to your forehead. “We’ll fix our sleeping schedule, okay?”

You nod, noting how easily he slipped into the plural. “Did you pull me away just to scold me?”

He chuckles as his hands find your hips, resting there. “As fun as that sounds, no. Sam told me that he found another case just north of here, practically in our backyard. I was wondering if you were up for some field work, but if you’re too tired…”

“No!” you insisted. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Good. We’ll leave tonight after dinner.” He kisses you chastely on the lips before turning you around and giving a light smack to your ass. You look back at him in playful shock, loving the Cheshire-cat smirk he had on. “Better get back out there.”

“Yes, sir,” you quip back, noticing how his pupils dilate with lust. You drop him a wink before going back to the library, your sleepiness long forgotten.

***

You pull your hair back into another ponytail, your hair slipping out of its elastic with every match. You sweat was making your skin heat up, every cell on fire.

“Good work, Y/N,” Sam encouraged you after your match with José. “Make sure you’re blocking your left side as well as you’re right.”

You’re so tired that you can’t even thank him properly. You offer him a bright smile as you leave the mat to get a drink of water.

You step into the corridor outside the training room, the air much cooler out there. You take a few chugs from your water bottle before you hear footsteps coming up behind you.

“You know,” you hear Penny drawl out before you turn around, “I would have thought the two of you were better at keeping everything hush-hush.”

You didn’t have the patience or the energy for this. “Penny, seriously? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Just drop it, okay?”

She leans up against the tiled walls, invading your personal space. “You know exactly what I’m getting at, Y/N. So does everybody else. It would be easier if you just came out and admitted that you were sleeping with—”

You have her pinned up against the wall before your brain makes the rational decision against it. “Shut. Up.”

She just smirks, not a bit intimidated despite the fact you had her pinned. Subconsciously, you knew that this is what she wanted, but you couldn’t stop. Between your mood swings of exhaustion to excitement today, you had had it.

“What is your game here?” you ask her through gritted teeth.

“I’m just making sure no one’s getting special treatment, is all.” She pouts and you want to punch it off of her face.

You step back and drop your hands, realizing it wasn’t worth it. It really was a game to her, and you weren’t about to ruin your experience by playing into what she wanted.

“Waste your time somewhere else,” you spat, taking another sip as you walked away.

Suddenly, you’re being yanked back by your hair and getting slammed into the hard wall, water flying everywhere.

“Really? Did you really think I was going to let you talk to me like that?”

You’re so surprised by her actions that you don’t even try to fight her until her hand was wrapped around your throat, the heel of her hand crushing down on your windpipe. That harsh glint from last night is back in her eyes as she chokes you.

Between trying to get a breath in and trying to kick out at her, you remember your minimal training. You swing one open palm up as hard as you can, clapping her on the ear. She stumbles off balance enough for you to slip out of her grip.

You wheeze in a breath before blocking a punch from her. You fight back with an uppercut that catches her right in the jaw. You don’t even have time to cradle your hand in pain before you’re being knocked onto the ground, your head slamming against the concrete. 

“Talk shit,” Penny growls, straddling your waist and landing a blow that all but shatters your cheekbone, “get hit.” She punches you again from the left side, right to your lip.

You block her next punch with the minimal strength you have left. You eye was swelling shut, your head swimming. You don’t even realize she’s been pulled off of you until you’re being yanked up yourself. You faintly recognize Sam’s arms around you, but you’re too disoriented to tell.

Either the room was spinning or you were being carried. You realize it’s the latter when you bury your uninjured cheek into someone’s broad chest. Definitely Sam. You close your eyes until you feel yourself being placed on a table.

You wince when something cold touches your cheek. You eyes fly open to see Dean pressing a towel full of ice to your injured face. He’s standing in front of where you were placed on the library’s table, medical supplies spread out on either side of you. He quickly wipes off your still-bleeding lip, the stinging causing you to whine.

“Let me see your throat,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. You comply, tilting your head back, feeling the low throbbing pain of where a bruise was sure to form on your neck.

“Who started it, Y/N?” he asks, his voice an angry quiet, no-nonsense tone hiding an underlying tone of anger. He asks again, harsher, when you don’t answer right away.

“I guess… I guess I did,” you admit, defeated.

“God,” Dean sucks in a harsh breath, throwing something down on the table, “God dammit, Y/N.”

“I’m sorry, Dean. I— ”

“Don’t you—,” Dean cuts you off, meeting your eyes for the first time. His eyes had a fire behind them that you had never had before. You had never been scared of him, but now you weren’t sure. “I don’t want to hear it.”

You gaze at him through exhausted and bleary eyes. There was a long stand off in silence where he just stared at you, his eyes full of anger and remorse. He breaks the silence with a deep sigh.

“I’ll see you when the case is done. Then we’ll decide what to do with you.”

“Wait,” you croak out, your throat aching, “you’re leaving?”

“I’ve got a case to solve, Y/N. It’s the one you were supposed to help me out with before you fucked up, remember?” His voice in monotone, not letting any emotions seep through into his words.

A fresh wave of tears hits you then. Through blurry vision you see him come towards you. You think he’s going to kiss you, but he pulls away at the last second with another sigh.

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

You hold in your cries until you hear the loud door of the bunker shut, a very final sound ringing out into the empty room. Your sobs rack through you, hurting every bit of your body. You think you feel your lips split open again, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Sam carries you to bed that night. You’re aware that you desperately need a shower and should eat something, but you don’t have the energy to do anything but wail.

Eventually, long after Sam is gone, your cries die down. Ever wince of pain reminds you of your betrayal, of how much you messed everything up. With every pound of your head, you’re reminded of his words: Then we’ll decide what to do with you.

You wonder if you do it to yourself. Maybe self-sabotage was what you did best. Tearing yourself down anytime you found happiness. The thought numbs you enough to find sleep. 


	7. Part Seven

You wanted to spend the next day moping in bed, but you forced yourself to wake up, shower, eat, and go about your day normally. Sam had relieved you of you kitchen duties and had kindly suggested that you take the day off, but you refused. Penny had already pushed Dean away; she wasn’t going to make you miss a lesson, too. When you got to the library after eating in the kitchen alone, Penny was nowhere to be found. 

True to Sam’s word, he handed out paper for your first quiz; you wanted to offer him a smile, but it wouldn’t reach your lips. You breeze through the questions, sufficiently answering each one with a little too much vigor. Whether it was to do well or try and prove yourself to him, you weren’t quite sure. Sam had allowed you to sit in on the lesson, but he had politely asked you to take some time off of hand-to-hand combat; you agreed whole-heartedly, thanking him for even letting you to stay. He had given you a sad smile then, only making your guilt feel worse.

To top it all off, Brenda was off with Dean and Jack on the case – on your case. You had never needed her more, and she was gone; you couldn’t help but feel like Dean had picked her on purpose, just to mess with you.

You tried to be angry at him, you really did, but everything you tried to push the blame on him, you were only reminded of how you were the one fighting, breaking his rules, not him. Could he have handled your aftercare better? Probably, but it wasn’t his fault, not really. You were just looking for a scapegoat to pin the blame on instead of yourself.

On Wednesday, your black eye was on full display. You almost wanted to skip all the stares and stay in bed, but your drive to redeem yourself outweighed your self-consciousness. At least you knew Penny wouldn’t be there; she was milking the whole thing, practically getting room service at this point. If that’s what she needed to feel better about herself, so be it. You wanted to blame her even more than you did Dean, but even that would get you nowhere. Who knew a black eye and bruised throat would give you such a clear view and a new voice?

Dean – just the thought of him made your heart hurt. What would he do when he got back? Would he want anything to do with you at all? The thought of loosing him was too much to bear.

When you thought about it, you really didn’t know him that well, only what you had observed in the few short weeks you had spent with him. He had warned you that he wasn’t good at relationships, at commitment; would this be the last straw for him?

You decided to seek out help. Since Brenda was gone and Sam was busy with the class (the last time you had talked to him was while he was passing back his quizzes, praising you for your ‘A’), you turned to the only person that made sense to you.

It had been four weeks since you’d seen him; you had honestly begun to wonder if he had left the bunker all together.

While everyone was in training, you roamed the halls, looking for signs of occupied rooms. Just because you had been kicked off your other case didn’t mean that you couldn’t work your own; the thought made you smile.

You walked down corridor after corridor; how big was this place? You felt like you should be leaving breadcrumbs to get yourself back to the library. Each door had a strange symbol on it, similar to Dean’s anti-possession tattoo.

As you pass one door, you here the muffled sound of canned laughter. You lean your ear against the door to get a better sense of what it could be before you went stumbling when the door was cracked open.

Shit.

You lock eyes with the brightest pair of baby blues that you had ever seen. He was propped up in his bed, legs crossed and completely at ease. He just stared at you, his face holding a curious little smile, almost like he was expecting you. Unlike the others, he didn’t seem to bat an eye at your bruised throat and black eye.

“Hello, Y/N,” he greeted, his voice just as low as you remembered it from your first night in the bunker.

“H-hello, Castiel,” you stutter out. He had never given you a reason to be intimidated by him, but you couldn’t help but feel small in his presence. 

“Humans are so interesting, don’t you agree?”

You glanced at the TV he was watching; it was playing an old rerun of Cheers.

You give him a curious look at his interesting choice of words but nod.

“What can I do for you, Y/N?”

You stand in the doorway, shifting your weight back and forth nervously, until he offers his hand towards the chair next to his bed. You quietly close the door, leaving it open just a crack, before sitting down.

He was even more gorgeous up close. He didn’t turn his body to face you, only putting the TV on mute. He patiently waited for you to find your words.

“Can I ask you something? About Dean?”

Castiel’s lips turn up into a crooked smile, his teeth ultra-white in the dimly lit room. “You can ask it, of course. I can’t guarantee that I can answer it.” His honestly was a little overwhelming. Who was this guy?

“Um, well… How long have you two known each other?” Better to ease into it, you think.

“Years, but it feels like a lifetime.” His eyes are distant, like he was remembering some far-off moment.

“How did you two meet?”

He sighs, folding his hands together on his lap, his long fingers intertwining together. His hands were callous and blemish free, the complete opposite of Dean and Sam’s. Was Castiel a hunter, too? Only four weeks in and you were more banged up than he was.

“How much has Dean told you about his past?” he counters.

You think back to the late night conversations the two of you had shared over the past month. “Not much,” you admit with a twinge of sadness.

“Then I’ll share with you my past,” he agrees, his words sounding strangely ominous. “You’ll have to ask Dean about the rest; that’s his story to share.”

You nod; you were just happy that he had agreed to speak with you at all.

“I know Dean’s trying to keep my staying here hidden from the group, but I figure that you’re a special case, considering Dean’s attraction.” He states it like a fact, nothing more than a statistic. “I’d like to consider myself a hunter, yes, but there’s more to the story than that.”

Wait – what? Did he just—

“I’m an angel of the lord, Y/N.”

You pause, your mind going completely blank. Angel of the lord; your head was swimming, unable to form a coherent thought.

“An angel,” you finally force the words out. Even when you say it aloud, it didn’t seem plausible.

“Yes.” His pink lips are quirked up into a tiny smile. “Here, let me show you.”

You sit still, trapped to your place in fear. He reaches two fingers towards your forehead, his movements slow and calculated. When his fingers meet your skin, you feel a sense of peace wash over your body, every nerve cell tingling with pleasure. You suck in a short burst of air that comes at the sensation.

“Go see,” he says, jutting his chin towards the mirror that hung about the little sink in his room.

You slowly get up, expecting your muscles to ache like they had been since your fight, but you feel nothing out of the ordinary. You are reluctant to see what had happened, forcing yourself to look in the mirror.

You gasp; your bruises were gone, black eye wiped away like it had never been there. Your busted lip was healing, looking full and rosy. You move your neck around, looking for the bruise, but see nothing. Pressing down on where Penny had put pressure on your windpipe, you felt nothing. Even you skin looked refreshed, your eyes brighter than you had seen them in a long time.

You slowly turn back to Castiel, a beg for an explanation on your lips, before you see him hunched over on the bed, his face crumpled in pain.

“Are you okay?” you ask, returning to your chair by his side. Your hands flutter uselessly over his body, not quite ready to touch him.

“I’m fine,” he assures you with a slight groan. “I’m just… low on batteries, if you will. It’s why I’m staying here.”

“Why did you use your strength on me?” your tone turning accusatory. 

He just grins again. “I can see why Dean likes you,” he says, straightening up against the headboard like before. “Both of you are the selfless, self-sacrificing type.”

Selfless? Self-sacrificing? They were in line with self-sabotage, just a nicer way of putting it.

“I hardly thing self-sabotage is a trait to describe yourself, Y/N,” Castiel murmurs, looking at you critically.

You were so mind boggled right now, unable to really wrap your head around it all. “So you can heal people, read minds… Is there anything you can’t do?”

“It’s not mind reading, per say… It’s more of a longing. That’s why I can hear prayers.” He explains his holy powers as if he was discussing the weather or baseball.

“I really don’t know what to say right now,” you admit.

“I tend to have that effect on people,” he jokes with a smile.

“Do you spend all your time on earth?”

Cas gets a fond look in his eyes, that far-off look coming back. “I was put in charge of Dean. It was my heavenly duty to protect him and look after him.”

“Do all humans have an angel of their shoulder?”

“No, only the special ones, the righteous ones. Dean… Dean had a heavenly duty to uphold, and it was my job to assure that he saw it through.

“Dean of course hated the idea,” Castiel smiles, mirroring your own. Dean wasn’t one to be pushed around, that was for sure. Even by heaven. “He, and Sam, for that matter, fought hard against their roles assigned to them.”

“What was their duty?” you ask quietly, almost afraid of the answer.

“To stop the apocalypse.” 

You have to blink a few times to take it in. “The apocalypse? You mean, end-of-times, heavenly fire, hell-on-earth apocalypse?”

“You’ve got the basics, yes.” Again, he spoke about it so simply; he must has seen a lot in his days to feel like Armageddon was just another Sunday afternoon.

“I’m assuming it never came to pass, right? Dean and Sam succeeded?”

“In a matter of speaking, yes, they did. They stopped the end of times, but on their own terms. It wasn’t the first time that they defied the rules.”

You ask him what he means, wondering how else they could go against heaven.

“My first duty in saving Dean was pulling him out of Hell.”

Hell. The word chills you more than Heaven did. Dean had spent time in Hell? What had he done to deserve his fate? You felt an ache of sorrow for him. How could he still smile and learn to love after something like that?

Maybe it was that simple; maybe he couldn’t learn to love. The thought sends shivers down your spine.

Castiel explains it from the beginning, from pulling Dean out of hell, to fighting Lucifer —“Lucifer? Like, the devil?”— to Sam getting possessed by the devil, only to go to Hell for his sacrifice. Castiel goes through every detail of the brother’s, and his own, struggle over the years. Sam and Castiel being mentally trapped by Lucifer, Dean and Castiel being sent to purgatory, Sam taking on the trails, Sam being possessed by another angel, leading up to Dean taking on Mark of Cain.

“This Mark of Cain,” you interrupt Castiel, “why did Dean take it on? Why him? Surely he had been through enough.”

“You’re right; Dean has been an unsung hero since he was born. It goes back to his self-sacrificing, I believe.” He sighs, his fingers smoothing out his wrinkled brow. “Dean has never felt… adequate, worthy. Dean and Sam have done more for this planet than anyone else I know, yet Dean still feels as if it will never be enough.”

You felt tears prick your eyes, now picturing Dean as a small, broken boy looking for love. How could someone so strong, so sweet, feel so unloved? The thought made your heart break.

You clear your throat from unheard cries. “So the Mark, what did it do to Dean?”

For the first time since he started his story, Castiel looked wary. “Dean, he… when he took on the Mark, he took on the rage that came with it. It unfurled in him, changing him into someone unrecognizable. One fight, the fight that would define the fate of heaven… Dean lost it. Took a blade to the heart.”

You clap a hand over your mouth to contain your surprise. “Did you heal him?”

He shakes his head. “No, I didn’t get the chance to. Dean died and was reborn. He was reborn as a demon.”

“Y/N?” you hear Castiel say through muffed hearing. Only one word rang through your head, over and over on repeat like a broken tape. Demon.

“Is he… is he still a…” you whisper, unable to say the word.

“No,” Castiel rushes urgently. “He paid a great price to be cured of being a demon and to get rid of the Mark, but he did it. He’s still recovering from the effects, but he’s back to his old self.”

You want to ask him how he was cured, what he had done in his time as a demon and with the mark, but the words don’t come.

Castiel speaks after a minute of silence. “Don’t think differently of him, Y/N. After all he’s been through, I think loosing what he has with you with devastate him.”

You look up from where your head had been hanging in your hands. “After… after all of… that, how could I affect him in any way?”

Castiel’s small smile is back. “You have no idea the impact you’ve had on him. I haven’t seen him this alive in a long while. You’ve changed him, Y/N.”

It’s the most puzzling thing Castiel has said all day. It didn’t make sense, but you didn’t argue. 

You can’t form your next question.

“Yes,” Castiel answers your silent prayer. “I believe he can.”

You want to think Castiel is right, want him to be right with every fiber of your being, but you weren’t sure.

“I guess you’re going to have to figure that out for yourself,” Castiel murmurs.

“I have about a million more questions for you, but I’ll let you sleep,” you say, standing up to leave.

“I don’t sleep.”

You laugh and shake your head, wondering how your life could have flipped so much in only a couple of hours. “I’ll let you rest, then,” you correct yourself, getting a smile out of him. “Thank you,” you say genuinely; words were never going to be enough to thank him for the gift he had given you.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He turns the sound up on the TV, ending the most interesting conversation that you had had in your life.

You walk back to your room in a daze, your brain overloaded on information. Learning about Dean’s past had given you a whole new view of him. Your feelings, like your thoughts, were jumbled and messed with. You only wished that he would give you enough time to talk it out.

You finally make it back to your own room, ready to sleep on everything you had learned and figure it out in the morning. You close the door and lean your forehead against the cool wood, hoping to clear your head a bit.

You turn around, your heart getting caught in your throat when you see Dean’s silhouette.


	8. Part Eight

“De—,” you don’t even get his name out before his lips are on yours, his large palms cradling your face softly. 

You don’t realize that you’re crying until he pulls away, his forehead resting on yours as the two of you breathe in each other. Your hands wrap around his wrists, feeling like you’re holding on for dear life. 

“Dean, I’m so sorry,” you apologize before he can say anything.

He just shakes his head, giving you an Eskimo kiss in the process. He gently kisses away your stray tears, brought on by your built up emotions from the past erratic days without him. Dean was hushing you softly, trying to calm you down.

“I missed you so much,” he finally says, murmuring the words into your hair. You inhale his musky scent, feeling more secure in his arms than you had since the moment he left you after the fight. “Y/N, I—I’m sorry.”

You pull away so you can see his face clearly. In the dim light, you can see that his eyes were closed, his eyelashes fanning out over his freckled cheeks; even in the short time you had known him, you had learned that even though he wasn’t always an open book, Dean’s expressive eyes were the quickest way to tell how he was feeling. You move your hands from his wrists, down his arms, and up to hold his face, your thumbs rubbing soft circles on the apples of his cheeks, trying to coax him into opening his eyes, and opening up to you.

“Penny admitted to starting the fight,” he started, opening his eyes to meet yours. “Why did you take the blame?”

You shook your head, confused; why would Penny take the fall? Maybe it wasn’t entirely your fault; if anything, you both had a hand in egging each other on. You were worried that she had another motive for confessing, but you pushed it to the back of your mind.

“I know how important this is for you, Dean, and I—I was totally selfish when I broke your one of your rules. I didn’t want you to think that I didn’t care, because, if anything, I care too much.” You felt the weight of your words, and they were truthful. In his most vulnerable moments, Dean had admitted how much training the lot of you meant to him, and you turned around and disrespected him and his conditions. Maybe self-sabotaging wasn’t your problem—it was selfishness. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered, his minty breath fanning over your face as he shook his head again. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment. “It’s okay, Y/N. It’s in the past. I shouldn’t have stormed out like that, leaving you here like that. It looks like you paid Cas a visit,” he smiled, tilting your chin up and examining you newly repaired face. “How are you feeling?”

You sigh, burying your face into his flannel-covered chest, seeking comfort. “Better now that you’re here. Cas and I had a long talk.” 

“About?” You can hear the edge in his voice, the weariness at your answer. You decide to come out and tell him the truth.

“Well, the whole angel thing, for starters,” you start, Dean’s mouth quirking into a smile as he shrugged. “He told me a little about your past,” you say, sighing again. You can feel his heart thudding loudly in his chest, and his arms tighten around you.

“That’s a lot of information,” he states, and you get the feeling that he doesn’t want to get into it, at least not now. “Do you have any questions?”

“Only a few million,” you say, pulling away once again, resting your chin on his chest to look up at him, “but they can wait.”

“All you need to know for now is that I’m in this, Y/N. I want to be with you, and nothing in my screwed up past is going to change that.”

“What if I’m the one doing the screwing up?” you ask cheekily, happy that you’re finally passed the awkward make-up stage and you finally feel as if you can be yourself again with him.

“I have a few ideas on how to punish you…”

“Oh really?” you challenge him, loving the smile that’s now back on his face.

He backs you up so you’re walking backward towards your bed, stripping you out of your shirt on the way.

“Down to your panties,” he commands, his eyes a mix of lust and laughter.

“Yes, sir.”

He groans at the nickname, making you laugh quietly in case anyone was roaming the halls. He picks you up and falls into bed with you, and you’re at peace once again.

***

“Morning, sweetheart,” Dean greeted you in the morning, kicking the door shut with his foot. You sat up, yawning, your spirits lifting when you saw that Dean came bearing the gift of food. Dean had insisted that you stay in bed while he made breakfast, not only for you, but also for everyone. He slid under the covers next to you and handed you a plate piled high with eggs, bacon, fruit, and waffles.

“You sure know a way to a girls heart, Dean,” you say, popping a ripe strawberry into your mouth, the taste making you moan.

You may hate fighting with Dean, but you couldn’t help but feel like the make-up sex was worth it. The night you made up had been the most fun you had had with Dean in weeks. He had been the mix of sweet, sexy, and sultry that you had fallen for in the first place, and his kindness had obviously continued into the morning. 

The two of you ate in peaceful silence, not wanting to pop your little bubble of serenity that the early morning held. In a few short moments, the bunker would be back to its usually boastfulness, and Dean would have to leave you to round up the troops. Last night you had agreed that it was best if you stayed to your room as much as possible for the day (and maybe the next); there wasn’t a good, plausible answer as to how you had healed so quickly, so it was best to avoid your curious peers.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to—”

“Dean, yes,” you groan, answering his same question for what felt like the millionth time since he got back. “You can’t kick Penny out without kicking me out. It wouldn’t be fair.”

Dean sighs and presses a kiss to your shoulder. “You did get a few good hits in. I guess training really is helping.”

You snort and bat at his bicep. “Always the optimist.”

After you were both done with breakfast, Dean climbed out of bed, moving gracefully around your room. You watch him move around, putting on clean clothes; he moved with the grace and power of a jungle cat, always poised to either defend or attack. With his history, he had probably always lived his life on the run or in a fight. The thought made you want to hold him close and never let him go.

“Oh, no,” Dean said when he was finally clothed and ready to start the day. “Don’t give me that look.”

“What look?”

“That one! Those, those dewy, puppy-dog eyes. I have to go.”

You kneeled on the edge of the bed so you were almost face to face with him. “You know,” you said, snaking your arms around his head, fixing his bed head, “for someone so strong, your will seems so easy to crumble.”

“Maybe you’ve just found my weakness,” he admitted with a cheeky smile. Him running his hands down your sides and over your curves was not making it easy to let him go. He ducked down for one last chaste kiss before he left with a wink. 

You fell back into bed, his touch still zinging in your veins. You don’t even try to hold back the giggle that escaped your lips. You were inexplicably happy, and you only wished that the exhilarating feeling would last. 

***

You spent the rest of the day switching back and forth between reading, cleaning, binge watching, and sleeping. Dean popped his head in around lunchtime with a double-stacked PB&J (complete with a Capri-Sun and a handful of veggies). You teased him for mothering you, and, to your delight, you were rewarded with a quickie with plenty of man handling. He couldn’t stay long, though, and you were left once again to entertain yourself until combat was done.

After curfew (which, at this point, had all but been forgotten), Dean had snuck you out so the two of you could shop together. You had passed Sam in the kitchen, where he was reading a newspaper and sipping on a nightcap. He had smiled when he saw the two of you, and you couldn’t help but feel like you belonged in the bunker once again. There was nothing like a little speed bump to remind you to slow down and enjoy the ride. 

“What vegetables do we need?” you ask him in the produce aisle from you usual seat of the grocery cart that he was pushing. Amanda, the pierced up clerk who worked the graveyard shift, didn’t think twice when you climbed into the cart on every trip. 

You passed the more exotic vegetables, laughing to yourself.

“What?” he asked, leaning over the child basket to look at you up close.

You leaned over and grabbed a prickly green. “Artichoke me, daddy,” you said as seriously as you could, using your best you poker face.

You couldn’t keep it together when you saw Dean start to stutter and turn red. Your laugh echoed off the empty aisles of the abandoned store. You pulled him in for a sweet kiss; he responded after a shocked second, fitting his lips against yours perfectly.

“We need to get you out of your room more often,” he joked when he pulled away, grabbing bags of lettuce and pushing you off to another part of the store.

The two of you continued to joke and laugh the rest of the night. Much to your dismay, the vegetable puns didn’t stop (“You look raddish-ing tonight,” was Dean’s best one yet.) 

It was easy, being with Dean. The two of you were like complementary colors—different, yet you worked so well together. You got late-night slices of pizza right before closing from the little shop down the street from the highway that would take you to the bunker. The two of you talked more in depth than you had since… since ever. Dean answered all of your questions; questions about his childhood, the stories that Castiel had told you, his faults and his triumphs. Dean was open and thoughtful, finally not holding back. You listened in rapt silence, completely transfixed with the pictures he painted with his words. His usual defense of humor was gone, swept away with the rest of his walls that he usually built up against you. You weren’t sure what had changed in him, but after hours of him talking and answering, you felt as if you knew him better than most people on the planet. You felt special, being let in on his deepest regrets and secrets and wishes. 

At the end of the night, he drove home, his hand in yours, as the two of you got lost in the darkness together. You didn’t care if you never got there, as long as he was next to you.

 


	9. Part Nine

Dean looked good in sunglasses. He had let his scruff grow out for a few days, dusting over his rugged jaw, making him that much more handsome. The hot sun of the countryside was practically palpable around the two of you, one of his large hands on your bare thigh and one on the steering wheel. 

Since the car’s air conditioning was severally lacking, all four windows were down, the air whipping past you making your hair fly back and every which way.

You jumped when Dean tucked a wild lock behind your ear and sunglasses. You glanced at him, a smile on his lips. 

“You are so beautiful,” he seemed to murmur to himself. His words made you laugh, remembering something long ago. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you assured him. “It’s just something my mom used to tell me.” He raised an eyebrow, prompting you. “She used to tell me that you always knew a man was telling the truth when he wanted nothing in return.” Of course, she had said the same thing about saying ‘I love you,’ but you left that very important part out. As close as you and Dean had become, you didn’t think he was quite ready for the big commit. 

You had to blink back tears when Dean smiled widely at your response, his teeth sparkling in the afternoon sun. He moved his hand back to you lap where you entwined your fingers, sighing happily.

“So tell me again about this hunt,” you asked, not quite sure how to feel about the excitement that swirled in your chest over the thought of hunting monsters.

“Someone’s eager,” Dean jeered.

“Well, yeah!”

You could practically hear Dean start to form a speech about how “hunting is a job, not a fun field-trip” like he did in class when someone got a little too over-excited, but he bit his tongue, instead telling you all about case that Sam had found.

It was the perfect hunt for just the two of you. The weeks were winding down, and everyone had gone on their hunts with Dean—except for you. Dean had claimed to your more curious peers that the two of you were going out alone due to your probation, and even Penny couldn’t argue with that one. So here you were, the two of you chasing down what seemed to be like a nest of vampires.

Vampires. The thought sent a delicious chill down your spine. They were one of the first ghost stories that you had learned about as a child, and now you were about to wipe out an entire pack of them. 

“Nervous?” Dean asked, his eyes on the road.

“No,” you answered honestly. “I know you’ll take care of me.”

He brought your intertwined hands up to his lips, kissing the back of yours, answering you silently.

After a few more miles, Dean asked again. “Are you nervous?”

“What? I jut said—”

“Are you nervous?” His hand was now climbing up your thigh, playing a childish game of chicken with you. You laughed when you realized what he was doing. You only made it another mile in the country before you had to pull over and show him just how at ease you really were.

***

“That was amazing!” Dean yelled exuberantly. “You were awesome!”

“Right?!” you squealed, your humbleness completely thrown out the window.

The two of you threw your used machetes in the trunk, stripping out of the outer layers of your blood-stained clothes; the summer night was warm enough that you could do without your jackets until you made it to the motel.

Dean was absolutely beaming, his face only illuminated by the dull washed-out light of the moon and his good mood. You would have thought it was Christmas, the Fourth of July, and his birthday, all rolled into one, judging by his excitement. You guessed that to a hunter, this was as close as it got to that giddy feeling.

“No, really,” he said after you had climbed into the cab of the car. “You were great, Y/N. I… I’m really proud of you.”

You grabbed him into a needed kiss, suddenly craving the feel of his lips on yours. Dean, who was much better with his actions than his words, put all his feelings into it, caressing and grabbing every bit of you that he could get his hands on, saying what he felt without words.

You pulled away. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” you say honestly, your lips hovering inches above his skin. “Thank you, Dean.” 

He kissed you one more time and threw the car into reverse. You nestled up against him, leaning on his shoulder, forgoing your seatbelt. He pulled out of his partially hidden parking spot that overlooked the abandoned house on the outskirts of town that the nest had been squatting in.

According to Dean, it was a textbook-perfect hunt. No injuries to speak of, the minimum amount of victim deaths, and no run-ins with the local police. The initial amount of vamps had worried you—six of them, two of you— but you and Dean worked together to take them down quick and easily.

You smiled when you thought of how well you had worked together. You were truly in sync, from taking orders from each other to having each other’s backs. You yourself had gotten two of them, marking Dean impressed. It made you feel like maybe, in the future, Dean and you could actually hunt together, side by side, as equals. 

You hadn’t given much thought to your future with Dean after his lessons were over. The thought of being out in the world alone, especially after establishing such a strong connection with him, was terrifying. Not only did you not want to loose him, but you didn’t think you were the same person before you showed up at the bunker’s doorstep. Was it love? You weren’t sure. For now, though, you were content with being with him, no matter what your label.

Dean pulled into a parking spot right in front of your room. The two of you quickly brought in the remainder of your stuff that you hadn’t left behind last time you had come in. It had only taken you a day and a half to find the nest, and less than two hours to wipe it clean. Last night had been all business and research (a great insight of what life was like on the road, you thought), but tonight was for celebrating a victory.  
The two of you shared a much-needed shower, only getting to the fun after all the grime, sweat, and blood was long-gone and down the drain. Dean had massaged shampoo into your scalp, somehow making the simple act sensual and sweet. (He made you feel so god that you were happy to repay him with a blowjob right there in the shower.)

It was the first time the two of you were truly alone. You didn’t have to worry about someone coming into your room, or wondering why your grocery run was taking so long. You took your time with one another, breaking each other down piece by piece, only to build one another back up again with pure pleasure and ecstasy. It was wonderful, but nothing quite compared to how Dean collected you in his arms after hours of lovemaking, holding you close enough to feel every breath and every heartbeat. You slept soundly, encircled in his arms, completely at peace.

***

“Morning, sweetheart.”

You rolled over towards the sound of his voice, not quite ready to open your eyes yet. “Morning. How’d you sleep?”

“Let’s just say that I could get used to this,” he murmured, sitting on the edge of your bed. 

You peeked up at him, finding his warm face smiling down at you. “Yeah?” you had to ask. 

He lied down next to you, close enough for you to see every faint freckle, every worry crease and every smile line on his face. He seemed to study your own face before sighing contently. “Yeah.”

You glanced down to see that he was fully dress, biker boots and all. You groaned. “Do we have to go back already?” you whined, clutching onto his tee shirt underneath his signature flannel with a fist. “Can’t we stay one more night?”

He sighed, brushing a lock of hair that had fallen in your face. “I wish we could. Sam called this morning to say that the troops were getting restless without their fearless leader,” he explained with a cocky smile that was so sexy it should be outlawed. 

“Fearless leader? That’s not what we call you behind your back,” you teased, sitting up in bed.

“Head-honcho? Boss man? Oh-Wise-One?”

You snickered behind your hand. “Warmer,” you allowed. 

He swung his long legs off the low-dipped bed and stood up, stretching his muscles that were no-doubt sore from all the excitement of last night. When you thought about it, you could use an ice pack and a hot bath yourself – or with him.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, striding across the room to collect his wallet and phone.

Just the thought of food made your mouth water. “Please,” you begged. “I’ll eat anything.” 

He smiled to himself at a private joke. “Good. I’ll be back with food to spare.”

“It better be a feast, Winchester, or I’ll raise hell.”

He kissed you on the forehead, absently running his index finger down the length of your face. “That would have been an empty threat from you up until yesterday.”

“You’re bruising my ego here, Dean.”

“You know what I mean.” You did. “Hunting is completely different in the field. You went in level-headed, kept your cool, and made fast decisions, and… and we both came out alright.” His green eyes were warm, emerald pools that gave you a glimpse to see that he truly valued your newly acquired skills. The praise sent a delicious shiver down your spine. He continued, “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.”

Your mouth had run dry, his words and his eyes and his body heat and his smell were a deadly concoction that was overflowing all of your senses. “Who knew that chopping off a few heads did so much for you,” you just manage to eek out.

He rolled his eyes, cradling your face gently. “I’m serious.”

You kiss his palm and stand up, his arms automatically encircling you. “Either go get me food or take me right now; all this teasing can’t be good for my health.”

He quirked up an eyebrow like he was considering the latter before your stomach growled. The two of you laughed before he pecked your nose and was out the door.

You sink down onto the bed, holding your cheeks tightly, afraid that if you let go your wide smile would crack your face. You might have been sad to go back, to leave this little slice of hunting heaven with Dean, but you knew that the sooner you got back, the sooner Dean’s classes would be over and the two of you could fully be together.

You fiddled with you family locket. It had been a while since you had thought of them. The nightmares that you used to suffer from so often had subsided, taken place by kisses and late-night quips from Dean. Even during your hunt last night, you were completely focused on the task at hand, not once stopping to think of why you were there in the first place.

You took a quick shower, letting the hot water cascade over you, turning your skin pink. (Dean was right – the water pressure in the Bunker was better than any motel’s.) 

When you stepped out, something was… off. You peeked your head out into the main room to check if Dean was back, but the lock was still latched on the door and your bed and small table were empty. You couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder as you dug through your duffle bag to grab your clothes for the day. 

Maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t back yet, but your skin was really beginning to crawl. You waited for the now-familiar roar of his car to sound off any second, all to no avail.

'Everything okay?' you texted him, worried at what was taking him so long.

Your thumbs twiddled as you waited for his response. Your text tone went off seconds later.

'Long line. Can you believe people are hungrier than you are?'

You sighed with relief. You were just being paranoid. 

'Are you okay?' he asked when you didn’t respond right away.

'Better now, thanks'

You packed the last of your things, tidied up a little for the maid, and waited. You even blow-dried your hair straight, something that you never got time to indulge. Even after checking the tiny closet in the room, you still turned the obnoxiously loud tool off every few seconds to check to see that there were in fact no disruptions.

You smiled when you heard the key in the door. You finish up in the bathroom and go out to greet him.

Your foot pauses in midair, your blood running cold. A figure – something that was not Dean – stood in the doorway. 

With the morning sunlight flooding into the room, its face was too shadowed to make out any identifying features. From its stance, you assumed it was a female, just a little bit bigger than you. If she was human, there was a chance you could take her. If she was something else entirely… the chances weren’t in your favor. 

In a split second decision, you abandoned your bags that were filled with weapons, stepping back into the small bathroom and slamming the door behind you and locking it up tight.

There were no windows, no possibility of escape. You pat your pockets for your phone to send a distress call to Dean, only to realize that you had left it in the other room. You cursed to yourself silently. All you could do was pray and hope that Dean would come soon and save you from this waking nightmare.

It was too quiet. You could hear every small, meaningless background noises – the old shower trying to drain out the last of the water you used, the cars on the road outside. You were beginning to think that you imagined it until the flimsy lock on the bathroom door began to turn.

You look around for any kind of weapon. Glancing above you, you see the shower rod that held up the badly patterned curtain. You quickly pick it apart, crushed when you find out its hollow and light in your hands. It would have to do. You have it down, aimed, and ready when the door swings open.

With all your might, you lunge forward, getting the intruder right in the eye socket with the end of the rod. She stumbles back, hissing and clutching her now-injured face. You slip out of the bathroom, almost making it to the door before she pulled back by the hair, screaming out with the pain of her force.

“That was cute,” she snarls, speaking for the first time. “The hunter-whore trying to fight back.”

She had you by the neck with one hand, her other wrapped around both of your wrists with an inhuman force. You can’t help but whimper out a strangled plea before she tells you to shut up.

She twists you down to the ground with ease, pinning you down with one knee on your chest. “Had a good hunt last night?” Her voice made you shiver, the sound comparable to nails on a chalkboard. “Did you have an awesome time?”

If her words hadn’t given her away, her now-descending vampire fangs did. Whatever damage you had done to her eye was healed now, her dark eyes twinkling with rage. They were the complete opposite of the pair that you so desperately wanted to see right now.

“Just kill me,” you begged, hoping she would do it fast, drain you quick enough that you would be gone from this world before he got back.

It was going to kill him, you thought. He would never forgive himself for leaving you alone, for taking you on this hunt, for allowing himself to get close to you. 

The thought made anger bloom in your chest. You tried with all your might to push her off of you, to get away from this monster and back into his arms.

“Please,” she growled, like putting you back in your place was easier than swatting a fly away. “You killed my entire family.”

“Your—ow – your family?” you asked, stalling her.

“Yes, bitch. Monsters can have families, too!” she mocked you in with a high-pitched tone. 

Her knees were now pressing down on your upper arms, pinning them to the ground while she sat on your chest, her heavy build crushing you and making it hard to breathe.

With a long fingernail, she sliced up her wrist, her almost-black eyes glittering. 

Alarm bells went off in your head, thinking back to one of the first weeks of training. Back when Sam and Dean had been teaching you on how vampires turned humans into their kind.

Your lips clamped shut, twisting your head to avoid the inevitable. She laughed hard once before closing off the air coming through your nose. You fought the urge to take in a precious breath; you would rather die from suffocation than be turned.

When your lungs couldn’t take the burn anymore, your jaw popped open, dragging in a deep breath, leaving her the perfect opportunity to let her blood drip into your mouth. It was unnaturally cold when it hit your tongue; your immediate instinct was to cough it up and spit it out but it was no use – it was too late.

She laughed when you began to cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks and onto the motel carpet. 

Her fingers grabbed at the back of your head, pulling you by the hair towards her. You were forced to look at her, your vision already going black around the edges. 

“I would drain your boyfriend, but the thought of you doing it for me is way more satisfying.” You let out a pathetic sob at the thought and she laughs again coldly, slamming your head into the ground and climbing off of you. Quicker than you could blink, she was gone and out of your room, as if she was never there at all. 

You welcomed the darkness that clouded your brain, slipping into your last sleep.


End file.
